


Visions Are Seldom All They Seem

by softanticipation



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-06-22 04:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 74,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19659991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softanticipation/pseuds/softanticipation
Summary: Once upon a time, Christen thought that Tobin was going to be her entire future.Now, a few years later and with a couple other people between them, it doesn't look like that's possible. Christen just wants to see if she can get another chance, but Tobin doesn't plan on making it that easy for her.*“Hi, Chris.”Christen is facing away from Tobin, and it takes everything in her to resist turning around. She knows that the moment she looks at her, she’ll be gone: head over heels all over again.“You’ve got five, Kell,” Tobin says. Then with a soft voice that Christen almost misses - “Bye, Chris.”





	1. Once Upon A Dream

**Author's Note:**

> every once in a while, the wwc comes around and inspires you to dust off a half-finished document that's been collecting dust in your documents for a couple years. i've tried to edit and update to the best of my ability. hope this isn't horrible!

When Christen first begins to suspect, she feels sick to her stomach. She’s restless, feeling like she could vomit at any moment. It isn’t until she goes to the toilet, wondering what’s taking so long and racking her brain for anything she’s eaten that could have done this to her, that Christen realizes that perhaps this isn’t actual sickness. 

No, she’s not sick, she realizes, gingerly closing the toilet lid and instead sitting atop it, burying her head in her hands and letting her shallow breathing overtake her. There’s a sort of impending doom that she’s feeling, something that she never had reason to feel before - at least not about this. Christen has been so sure of this that to doubt herself is more than she can handle, she thinks, mind flooded with _what ifs_ and possibilities, possibilities that are heavy and strike her hot and electrifying. She has been so sure - and now she feels like a fool for it. 

It takes a while for the nausea to go away. Christen eventually moves from the bathroom to the couch, in front of the tv where Grey’s Anatomy reruns are still playing. She watches but doesn’t pay attention, barely able to follow the case while her mind runs wild despite the fact that it’s the most terrifying thing she’s ever experienced. She wants to run away, to get answers and make sure that this isn’t true - but her gut has never steered her wrong, and she has a feeling that this time is no exception. 

Christen wishes she could have a ginger ale, some sparkling water, maybe some plain crackers - anything to settle her stomach. She has plans to meet Kelley for lunch but she doesn’t want to go, instead texting her and feigning sickness which really, truly, isn’t too far off from the reality. Kelley offers to bring over some medicine but Christen politely declines. The last thing she wants is for anyone to see her before she can get a grip on this. 

It’s a quiet day, and Christen fights back tears several times. She knows she’s overindulging her feelings - she should be fighting this, either dealing with it head on or doing something to distract herself. Anything would be better than what she’s currently doing: wallowing. She’s wallowing and she knows it. 

The problem is that she doesn’t know how to stop.

The memories and feelings are flooding back and they’re too strong for Christen to resist. She never thought she would ever have to deal with this. What they had shared had always seemed so strong, so _transcendent_ that she never thought she would ever have to deal with something like this. The possibility here - of her moving on - makes Christen cry when she’s in the shower, letting the hot water drown her hot tears, keeping her neighbors from hearing her through the thin apartment walls. 

At least she managed to shower, she thinks that night as she climbs into bed. Even if she hadn’t done anything else, at least she had showered. Tear tracks are still drying on her face when she falls asleep and there’s a giant knotted ball of dread in her abdomen, tying all her organs together, but her dreams are the only reprieve she gets from the feeling that the woman she loved more than anything might have moved on. 

*

The next day at work, Christen is thankful the unit is busy. It’s typical for a Monday, but she’s still appreciative. She’s not in the mood to gossip with her fellow nurses - she does her job as she has to, picks at her lunch until she can’t bear the thought of another bite, and ignores the anxiety-induced queasiness as best as she can. Not even the donuts brought in by visitors can tempt her. Normally she’d be all over them, something light and sugary to brighten up what can sometimes be a very difficult day in the hospital. Today though, she just blinks back tears and is proud of herself for getting through a shift without losing it. 

It isn’t until she’s nearly ready to clock out that she gets dangerously close to breaking. She’s spent the entire day dealing with this possibility - convincing herself that maybe she was the only one still harboring feelings, acknowledging that perhaps this was her fault in the first place, forcing herself to realize that time passes and things change and her life was good now so there was no reason to be so upset - and she now feels strong, stronger than she has since the thought first wormed its way into her mind. It makes her vulnerable, incidentally enough. She feels so strong that when Ali, one of the other nurses, comes into the break room to collect her things, she doesn’t see it coming. 

“Are you alright?” Ali asks lightly, conversationally. “You’ve been so quiet today.”

Christen is caught off guard, pulling her car keys out of her purse and nearly forgetting how strong she’s supposed to be right now. 

“Oh,” Christen says slowly, unsure of how to respond. “I mean, we all know I’m not very loud to begin with.”

“No, I know,” Ali reassures her. “I didn’t mean it badly - I just wanted to make sure. I thought for sure you and I would be commiserating over eating way too many donuts during the afternoon slump, but you were nowhere to be found.”

She’s right, and Christen feels conflicted. The two of them are close work friends, close enough that they see each other occasionally outside of the hospital, and this could be Christen’s opening. Ali is a neutral party, someone Christen could confide in to hopefully give her some helpful feedback. However, Christen is also infamously private, and she’s too scared and fraught with nerves to want to speak up about it. Part of her is worried she’ll look silly, or overdramatic. 

People move on. She knows that. For a very long time, she thought she had. None of it is revolutionary, and she’s not special. She should be able to deal with it. 

Instead of opening up at all, Christen just smiles as best as she can at the moment. 

“I was just busy,” she says. “That post-op patient in twenty-two really kept me there forever with their dressings.”

Ali clicks her tongue and nods, no longer looking at Christen as she collects her Tupperware from the fridge. 

“Yeah, I heard about that one. God, I hope I don’t come back on Thursday and have them.”

They make small talk as they leave the break room and walk towards the big hospital entrance. Ali’s parked in the west lot so Christen waves goodbye after wishing her a nice couple of days off and heads for the south lot, fighting the rising sickness as she goes. Ali hadn’t done anything wrong besides provide Christen with a few moments of normality, but now alone with her thoughts again, she realizes that she problem hasn’t gone away. 

She doesn’t know what to do about it. Really, she doesn’t think she can do anything about it. 

But then the next morning Kelley’s name flashes on her phone, wondering if she wants to grab a quick coffee. Christen has work again, but she texts Kelley to arrange for another day, and feels somewhat in control of herself for the first time since the possibility first occurred to her. 

*

When Christen had first pulled up her Instagram the other morning, keen to post a picture of her new coffee mug to her story, the last thing she’d expected was to see a post from Tobin. It hadn’t been anything fancy - just a painting, bright and done all in primary colors, a heart with some abstract designs. Christen had only been mildly surprised, remembering Tobin talking about how she’d used to enjoy painting but hadn’t picked it back up in years, too busy with work and the curveballs life throws people. The picture was somewhat inspiring, making Christen wonder how Tobin was doing beyond the brief and superficial interactions the two of them had had over the past couple of years. But then her eyes had naturally been drawn down to the displayed comments, and that brief moment of happiness slipped away as abruptly as it had come. 

_It came out so well! So proud of you :)_

Ice had flooded her veins before turning into lava, red-hot and burning her from the inside out. A few quick clicks told Christen that the commenter had a private profile, and Tobin of course wasn’t the type to reveal anything more than she was forced too. 

It always had been like pulling teeth with her. 

Christen had clicked around on her phone a little more - old comments on Tobin’s pictures, anything she was tagged in - and found plenty enough to have her anxious enough to run for the toilet. Nothing incriminating at all, but enough for Christen to feel sick all the up through sitting down at a spindly wire chair and table set, on the front patio of one of Kelley’s favorite coffee shops. Even then, Christen’s stomach only calms barely. 

“Hi,” she says to Kelley, sitting down carefully after swinging her bag over the back of the chair. “How are you?”

Kelley is already armed with a black coffee, her drink of choice when she’s running late, and is sporting her typically unbrushed, messy hair. She’s vibrant as always, grinning casually and smiling at Christen over the rim of her giant mug that looks suspiciously like a cereal bowl with a handle on it. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Kelley says. “I would have ordered for you, but didn’t know what you were feeling today.”

“You could have texted,” Christen tells her, already reaching for her wallet. 

“Maybe I’m tired of picking up the bill,” Kelley says with a sparkle in her eyes - they both know that Christen has been the one picking up the bill for nearly ten years at this point. 

“I’ll be back,” Christen says, and she heads in to wait in a long line. At the counter she orders a giant cappuccino, then heads out to wait at their table. 

“So,” Kelley says, leaning back in her chair, one leg lifted so its ankle can rest on her other knee. “What’s up?”

Christen just taps her nails on the stone tabletop, wondering if it’s so obvious that something is going on with her. 

“I’m good,” she tells Kelley after a moment, stomach spasming with anxiety and figuring that maybe, hopefully, she can calm down enough at some point that she’ll be able to confess what’s truly bothering her. “Work just keeps me busy, as usual.”

“You’ve got to find another job,” Kelley says, shaking her head. “You’re so stressed there. And I mean, the hours are terrible, the pay could be better - “

“And I’m locked into their new employment contract,” Christen reminds her gently. “You know the deal. If I break the contract, I have to give the bonus back.”

“So why don’t you?” Kelley fires back. It’s a conversation they’ve had so many times that Christen knows it like the back of her hand. She knows exactly what Kelley is going to say next, so she cuts her off at the knees. 

“I’m not going to work at a cosmetic surgery clinic,” Christen interrupts, watching Kelley’s mouth hang open for a moment before snapping shut rather abruptly. “Or anything like that. I got into nursing to help people - I’m not going to sell my soul for office hours and a decent paycheck. Besides, by the time I’ve paid back the bonus - “

This time, Kelley’s the one who cuts Christen off. 

“What do you need your savings for right now?” she demands. “You can make your rent, you’re not saving for anything. Your savings are for a rainy day, and that’s what this is!”

Christen sighs, hands falling into her lap. 

“I’ve got six months left,” she says, as strong as she can. “Six months, and then it will have been five years and I can leave.”

Kelley looks disappointed enough that Christen sends up a quick prayer when a server come over and sets down her cappuccino, giving her the opportunity to occupy herself for a moment. 

“I just worry about you,” Kelley says, and it’s light and devoid of any real feeling, but Christen knows Kelley well enough to know that she means it. “Besides, ever since you sat down, you’ve been looking like someone killed your dogs.”

“The dogs are fine,” Christen mumbles into her bowl - sorry, mug. “They’re still with my dad.”

Kelley quirks an eyebrow before picking up her own cup, sipping for a few moments while refusing to look away from Christen. It’s one of her signature moves, really, and Christen hates it. It always wordlessly pressures her into opening up, no matter how much she doesn’t want to. 

“It’s not my job that has me stressed,” Christen says after a bit, after she’s judged her cappuccino to be the perfect temperature - just this side of hot, without burning her tongue completely. She doesn’t follow up immediately, taking a few long sips and letting Kelley continue to blankly scrutinize her. 

“Are you going to tell me what is?” Kelley asks once it’s clear that Christen is deviating from their usual routine. 

Christen bites her bottom lip, setting her mug down and tapping her fingers again. 

“How have you been? How’s work?” she asks, and Kelley’s eyes narrow momentarily before the wrinkles between her eyebrows smoothes out, no evidence of the lines left behind. 

“Fine,” Kelley says, indulging her. “The kids are great. Doing what they’re supposed to.”

“I saw that they won on Friday,” Christen mentions. “Good on them.”

“Well, you know,” Kelley says, voice drawling a bit. “Occasionally I do my job.”

“Sure,” Christen says, drawing out the word. “Occasionally. Assuming someone isn’t there to do it for you.”

“Well, thankfully for them, the school hasn’t promoted me quite yet,” Kelley says. “Otherwise, who knows what might our record this season might have been?”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be getting promoted at any point,” Christen comments, and she prays that Kelley doesn’t see it, doesn’t see the way Christen is slowly crawling along to her destination. 

Kelley outright frowns at that, leaning a little closer to the table. 

“You think they’ve got better options?” Kelley scoffs. “I mean, just because our head coach declined the offer from Florida doesn’t mean she isn’t getting ready to retire. It just means she wants to retire in Los Angeles.”

“I didn’t say that that’s why you wouldn’t,” Christen says. “Maybe you’re just not the best person to be in charge of a bunch of college kids.”

“Hey,” Kelley says crossly, pointing a finger in Christen’s face, “just because I actually hang out with them, and relate to them, doesn’t mean I’m not fit to be coach one day.”

Christen shrugs. 

“Just saying, that surely there are better options.”

Kelley rolls her eyes. 

“What, who? I mean, I know you might be slightly biased given your history, but surely you don’t actually think that Tobin would be a good candidate for the job.”

There it is, Christen thinks, feeling panicked and yet satisfied as she drinks more of her coffee. She doesn’t answer and instead just cradles her giant mug in her fingers, trying to school the expression on her face into something a little more neutral. The last thing Christen wants is for Kelley to completely see through her, and see all the anxiety she’s been living with for the last few days. 

“Do you?” Kelley pushes, sounding curious. “I mean, I know she’s not half bad when it comes to knowing soccer, but I didn’t think you’d ever pegged her for the type to lead a couple dozen college kids to a championship.”

Christen carefully clears her throat before speaking. 

“No, I’m just giving you a hard time,” she says, flashing Kelley a quick, weak smile before bringing her mug back up to her mouth again. 

“Good,” Kelley says, thankfully unbothered. “Because I’ll have you know, she spent all of the game against Cal cursing their number ten to hell and back. 

“That’s sports,” Christen points out and Kelley nods begrudgingly. “And knowing you, you probably were cursing along with her. Anyway. Otherwise, she doing well?”

She does her best to sound nonchalant. Kelley only glances at her briefly before answering, giving Christen hope that it’s all working as she imagined. 

“Yeah, she’s great,” Kelley says. “Same as usual, really.”

“Nothing new?” Christen attempts to clarify.

Kelley pulls a face, finishing off the last of her coffee. 

“I mean, it’s Tobin,” she emphasizes, and Christen nods in understanding. Internally, she’s frustrated because she understands exactly what Kelley means. “She’s there, she’s doing her job - just as well as I am, I’ll have you know. She doesn’t exactly tell me much. Why do you ask?”

“Just checking in,” Christen says. “Just trying to show that I care; about you and your life and the people in it.”

Kelley looks skeptical. 

“Yeah, right,” she says. “I’m pretty sure you knew Tobin better than I ever did.”

The comment stings unintentionally, and Christen looks down and tries to keep from letting her eyes well up.

“Um, not anymore,” Christen says after a moment, not wanting Kelley to worry or be suspicious. “You know that.”

“I don’t really know much,” Kelley says with a shrug. “Neither of you tell me anything. And I get it, I’m kind of caught in the middle here.”

“I’m not trying to make it seem like that,” Christen says instantly, apologetically. “Whatever happened with me and Tobin, however we feel about it, shouldn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I know,” Kelley says. “No, I know that. I know it’s not like that. But neither of you say anything - not that you ever did very much to start with - so it’s hard to gauge how I’m supposed to act when either of you come up in conversation around the other.”

Christen clears her throat again. 

“I wouldn’t expect to come up in conversation between you two,” she says tentatively. 

“Eh, every once in a while,” Kelley says, waving a hand dismissively. “Even if you two don’t have much to do with each other anymore, I’m not going to act like you’re not a big part of my life.”

“Right,” Christen says, mind spinning with possibilities. She’s never thought that Kelley talked about her at work. After all, her and Tobin are very nearly exes - what reason would Kelley have to bring her up?

“Anyway,” Kelley says. “Enough about that. I’ve got to tell you about Erin’s newest boyfriend. That is, unless you had more to say on the subject?”

“No,” Christen says, forcing herself to look fascinated. Which, truth be told, she kind of is; Erin always dates the most interesting guys. “Tell me. Is he as bad as the guy who secretly worked at the fish market? I still don’t know how he managed to hide the smell.”

“Not yet,” Kelley says before she launches into the tale, and Christen does her best to get lost in Kelley’s effervescent presence for as long as she can. By the time they get ready to separate, the cold dregs of Christen’s monstrous cappuccino are long forgotten at the bottom of her cup. Her anxiety has subsided slightly but as the two of them walk towards where they parked their cars, it begins to rise again. 

“Hey,” Kelley says as she begins fiddling with her crossbody bag. “So, we’re hosting the national championship this year.”

“That’s a bit premature, Kell,” Christen tells her. 

“Shut up,” Kelley says, shoving her lightly. “I’m just saying - if we make it to semis, you should come. See the fruit of my labors. If that’s how the saying goes.”

“Keep me updated,” Christen says, mind already running crazy with the possibility of seeing Tobin again, even from a distance. “I’m sure I can swing by the campus to see one of your protegees kick a ball into a net.”

“You’re not allowed to wear Stanford gear,” Kelley threatens as they reach her car. “I swear, if you show up in anything but blue - “

“Just because you’re a traitor doesn’t mean we all are,” Christen interrupts, grinning at the pout on Kelley’s face. “Some of us have actually stayed loyal to our alma mater.”

“I go where the money goes, Chris,” Kelley says as she opens her door. “Keep in touch, though.”

“Keep me updated,” Christen reminds her. “I don’t exactly have alerts set up for the NCAA.”

“Will do!” Kelley shouts out before closing her door, and Christen decides she would rather go find her own car than watch Kelley attempt to maneuver out of her parallel parking spot. 

When she gets home, she looks up the game schedule and upon confirming that UCLA will indeed be holding the women’s soccer championship this year, actually gets sick for the first time. It’s only coffee in the toilet, but Christen gags and dry heaves at the thought of being close to Tobin after everything that’s happened between them. 

The worst part is, Christen thinks as she tries to figure out if she’s done vomiting, is that it isn’t even Tobin’s fault. 

It’s entirely Christen’s.


	2. Almost Is Never Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost Is Never Enough - Ariana Grande

The first couple of weeks in November turn the weather from unbearably hot into something more mild, and Christen finally gets over the anxious nausea she’s been carrying. After more than a handful of mentions from Kelley later and a lack of incriminating Instagram evidence, she’s forced to admit to herself that regardless of what goes on in Tobin’s personal life, it doesn’t have anything to do with Christen. What happened between the two of them has passed, and Christen has already dealt with that. There’s no reason to develop feelings for Tobin all over again. 

At least, that’s what she tells herself. 

Kelley invites Christen to a few home matches, but Christen’s work schedule makes it difficult to attend. She does ask off the long weekend for the national championships, because the team is doing well and she wants to keep the option open, but she doesn’t tell Kelley right away. Christen figures that at the very least, she can surprise her best friend by taking initiative. Kelley would like that, she thinks, taking a spare quiet moment at work to look up tickets on her phone. Christen doesn’t exactly want to go solo, but she sat through enough of Kelley’s games in college that she figures it won’t hurt much to do so once more.

To say that she’s a bit worried about seeing Tobin, even from afar, is an understatement. Christen is doing her best to not care, the lack of contact between them forcing her to face the circumstances, but she doesn’t think it will seem so simple if they end up in the same place. Christen pushes that thought from her mind as she buys a ticket online. She’s doing this for Kelley, she tells herself. 

The door to the break room bangs open, and Christen smiles when she sees Ali and Becky. It’s nice to work with them, especially on Saturdays. 

“Hi,” Ali says, grabbing her lunch from the fridge before immediately flopping into a chair. “Man, my legs are killing me today.”

“That’s why you need to actually wear your compression socks,” Becky advises her, sitting at the head of the table and unzipping her lunchbox. 

“Is it bad that I don’t even own a pair of those?” Christen wonders out loud. 

“Depends,” Becky says with her all-knowing gaze trained on Christen. “How old are you again?”

“Becky!” Ali exclaims, pausing and looking up as she’s about to devour the salad she’s packed for herself. “You can’t just ask a woman how old she is!”

Christen laughs, and it feels good to think about something other than UCLA women’s soccer. 

“I don’t mind,” she says, and Becky looks at Ali as if to say,  _ see?  _ “I turn twenty-eight in December.”

“I should have known when your birthday was,” Ali says, setting her elbows on the table as she runs her plastic fork through her glass bowl. “I mean you’ve been here how many years now?”

“Four and a half,” Becky says, earning herself a questioning look from the other two. “What? Don’t look at me like that. Our badges literally have our date of hire printed on them. I can do the math.”

“You must have some very good eyesight then,” Ali remarks, pointing at where Christen’s badge is half covered by her hair. Today it’s straight and half pulled back, but currently draped forward over her left shoulder. 

“I do,” Becky replies simply. 

They eat in silence for a bit. 

“Who’s working Thanksgiving?” Ali asks after a minute. “I’ve got to put up the potluck sign-up list. I’ll check the schedule later, but - either of you on?”

“I’m not here,” Christen says apologetically. “I’ve got Christmas day this year. Besides, I worked Fourth of July, Labor Day, and Halloween.”

“Damn,” Becky says, leaning back in her chair. “Do you like working holidays or something? I’m here Thanksgiving.”

Christen stays quiet and doesn’t mention the way holidays make her feel alone and just remind her that she’s got no one to really bring home with her the way her sisters always seem to. 

“I’ve got Thanksgiving off,” Ali says, going for her phone calendar. “How do you know about Christmas? I didn’t think the schedule was out yet.”

“I talked to Dawn,” Christen says. “She’s the one doing the schedule.”

She tries not to think about how she’s asked off for December sixth and seventh

“Right,” Ali says, still studying her phone screen. “I’ve got to talk to her, then. No way am I working New Years Eve again.”

“You just like staying out late and partying,” Becky says with a raised eyebrow and a grin, using a fork to eat a bag full of green grapes. 

“One day, I will be married with kids,” Ali says, rather dramatically. “But that day is not today.”

“I feel that,” Christen says with a laugh, trying to relate. “Single, but a little reluctant to mingle.”

She’s worried that it will come off wrong, weird and awkward, but it makes the other nurses laugh and Christen does her best to bite back a smile. 

“I remember being single,” Ali says. “Back before I met my girlfriend.”

“I’ve been with my boyfriend for so long I don’t even remember those days,” Becky comments. 

“Enjoy it while you can,” Ali tells Christen with a wink and a beautific smile. “You’re young and pretty.”

“Feels like I’m old and ugly,” Christen says, self-deprecating but hoping it comes off jokingly as to not bring the mood down.

“No, you’re probably just too intimidating,” Becky says with a shake of her head. “I mean, that’s what Heather thought when you started here. She thought you hated her.”

Heather is a little older and one of their charge nurses, and Christen just shrugs at the comment. 

“I’m just quiet,” she says. “I don’t hate anyone, not really.”

“That’s what I told her,” Ali says. “Just because some people aren’t loud all the time, doesn’t mean anything.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Becky says, rolling her eyes. “You’re one of the loudest people on the floor.”

Ali wrinkles her nose. 

“Just because I have the kind of voice that carries - “

Christen tunes out their conversation, instead trying to focus on the text her dad has sent her. She sighs heavily, reading about Thanksgiving plans, and the way her stomach clenches uncomfortably makes her shove her phone back in the pocket of her scrubs without replying. It leaves behind the bitter taste of guilt in her mouth, but then her pager vibrates and she’s forced to read the incoming message, feeling less horrible upon hearing that one of her patients is throwing up. 

“I’ve got to get back out there,” she says, eyes glued to her pager as she stands, pushes her chair in, and collects her trash. “Enjoy the rest of your lunch, see you guys later.”

“Have fun!” Ali calls after her. 

Christen just wants to make it through the rest of her shift without incident - without thinking of her father’s text, without thinking about Kelley, without thinking about the women’s national championship. For the most part, she succeeds. It isn’t until her phone beeps towards the end of her shift - 6:38, to be exact - that she fails. 

Although, for the record, it isn’t her fault. 

It’s Tobin Heath’s. 

*

When Christen thinks about Tobin, one of the first things that comes to mind is that it’s all too complicated. It’s too complicated to explain to anyone, regardless of how many times Kelley would ask about it when things first began to get complicated. It’s too complicated for Christen to deal with - thus, the poor coping mechanisms along the way. It’s presumably too complicated for Tobin, which is why Christen doesn’t understand why she’s being texted. 

The text makes sense, sure, but Christen personally thinks that Tobin didn’t have to - she didn’t have to type it out, and she certainly didn’t have to press send. 

_ Kelley mentioned wanting you to come to the finals. Will I see you? _

Christen swallows thickly all the way home, praying she won’t throw up. Muscle memory drives her back to her apartment, and when she puts the car in park, she doesn’t remember how she got there. It’s so pervasive, the nausea, something that Christen feels like she’s been living with ever since that one day she snooped more than she should have. 

She’ll never admit to the way that she clicks around to Tobin’s page when she’s having a moment of weakness. The app is right there on her phone, and it’s so easy to get to. It only takes a few moments to find Tobin, and her most recently posted photo, and then the comment, and then - 

Then she hits a dead end. 

It kills her, the not knowing. Christen keeps thinking that maybe, just maybe, if she knew the truth, she could at least rest easy. Even if it’s bad news, even if there really is someone in Tobin’s life who is more important than Christen ever was, at least she would know. The nausea would go away, she would stop feeling anxious every time she has a moment where her mind drifts to it (which, to be perfectly honest, is far more often that Christen can bear to acknowledge), and she could relax for the first time in at least a month. 

She wonders if she’s projecting. If the anxiety in her life is being placed on this situation, this situation that barely exists enough to call it one. Work and family and life in general is stressing her out constantly, and has been for a while, and Christen almost considers calling up one of her sisters to ask what they think about it. That’s when she knows that things are in a bad place - she rarely goes to her sisters for advice. They might get along well when together, but they aren’t the kind of people Christen wants to trust with her emotions. 

Tobin was really the only person she ever wanted to entrust her emotions to. 

Maybe that’s the problem, she thinks when she gets inside her apartment and heads for the bathroom. She needs to wash all of the hospital germs off of her, but not even the steamy shower she steps into is enough to take her thoughts elsewhere. Tobin was the person she let see her soul, the person she let in enough to actually hurt her - except she ended up chickening out, and Tobin ended up hurt. 

Christen runs a razor over her legs, only because she doesn’t want to look like she’s completely dropped the ball and given into the stress that is currently trying to overtake her life. She’s too quick and careless and when she slices off a sizeable strip of skin, about a quarter-inch wide and an inch long, she feels numb for the longest fraction of a second that ever existed. Of course, this would happen she thinks, frozen. 

And then it burns and she’s pulling the leg out from under the stream of water, pressing at the skin surrounding the fresh wound. It’s nothing a little Neosporin and gauze can’t fix, but she still has conditioner in her hair and half a hairy leg to finish grooming. It hurts, and when she gets out of the shower, she wraps a towel around her and then perches on the toilet to fix things. She goes slow and careful while cleaning the cut, inhaling sharply every time she accidentally touches the edges. Christen pushes on though, blinking back tears of pain but mostly frustration as she covers it with a square or two of gauze and the surgical tape she’s got stashed away in a cabinet. 

She wants to respond to Tobin, she really does. But she feels too out of sorts, too scared to say anything, too terrified that Tobin won’t respond or that things won’t go the way she wants them to. It’s an internal battle that persists as she gets ready for bed before sitting down at the counter with a bowl of cereal for dinner - it’s late, she doesn’t have any leftovers, and she’s too tired for anything else. Her shin is throbbing and all she wants to do is claw at is, carve the hurt out of her until it can’t do any more damage than it already has. 

It isn’t until she slips into bed that she realizes: there’s no sign that she and Tobin existed. No physical evidence. Just some hurt feelings, broken hearts, unspoken words - there’s nothing tangible to remember her by. It makes Christen want to fight, makes her want to at least give this a shot. Even if it crashes and burns, even if nothing ever comes of it, at least she can try. 

So she takes her time and tries to compose a message in her head, staring at her phone screen and patting herself on the back for managing to wait so long to respond, for not shooting off an automatic response. She might have regretted that. It’s not easy to figure out what to say to Tobin - how is Christen supposed to tell her that she misses her, that she loves her, that she would go back and do everything differently if given the chance? How is Christen supposed to maintain her dignity, let Tobin know how she feels, and appropriately answer her question all in one fell swoop?

She can’t, Christen admits to herself, fingers faltering after deleting the one word she’s managed to type. 

_ Hi, _

Starting over takes a while, and it’s another ten minutes before she finally presses send. The anxiety makes her hands shake and she feels nauseous, again, unable to lie down and sleep despite the fact that it’s getting late and she has to be back at work tomorrow at seven o’clock sharp. She’s afraid of Tobin responding, so she does what anyone in her situation would do - she puts the short message thread on Do Not Disturb, shoves her phone under her pillow, and tosses and turns until she finally falls asleep. 

*

_ I might go, should I expect to see you? _

*

Christen wakes up to a response that has her mind scattered, and it’s all she can do to resist replying so early in the morning. She knows Tobin is not yet awake - it’s a Sunday, her favorite day to sleep in.There’s a lot more she knows about Tobin, but her brain is too focused on getting to work to make a list. She pulls her phone out periodically throughout the day, just to stare at the words and look for a hidden message that isn't there. She has to trust that Tobin won't hide anything from her, Christen thinks. If she had something to say, surely she’d say it. 

_ I mean it’s kind of my job to be there _

It means next to nothing, Christen knows. But she can’t help it, her phone burning in her scrub pocket all shift until she finally decides that replying won’t kill her. It won’t kill off the last shred of decency she possesses as far as Tobin’s concerned, and it certainly won’t make the situation worse. 

_ I know, just didn’t know if you’d want me there _

Tobin’s reply is near immediate; she’s clearly up for the day and even though Christen feels her phone vibrate upon receiving it, she doesn’t get a chance to pull it out and read the message until a little while later. 

_ I’m the one who asked lol, if you don’t want to see me that’s fine but I don’t want to keep you away _

Christen bites her lip and tries to think of something to say that is neither horribly soul baring nor defensive, but comes up with nothing and decides to leave it at that. It might not be the best decision, to take Tobin’s words harshly and ignore the possible olive branch, but that’s what happens when communicating with only a handful of written words. 

Later, when Christen is at home and tucked in for the night, she’s debating sending a text. She doesn’t want Tobin to think that she doesn’t want to talk to her because, really, it’s quite the opposite. Maybe she can blame the late response on a long day, she thinks, chewing on her bottom lip as she stares at the thread. But then, a gray typing bubble pops up, and Christen unconsciously holds her breath for as long as it takes for the bubble to morph into an actual text. 

_ Both Kelley and I would love to see you. It’s been a while. _

That’s an understatement, Christen thinks, nearly bursting into frustrated tears as she reads it several times over. It’s been more than a while - it’s almost been years since Christen felt welcome on the sidelines of their games. She doesn’t want to reply, instead feeling stubborn and slighted and hurt. But ultimately, when it comes to Tobin, it’s all very out of Christen’s control, and her fingers are tapping on the screen despite herself. 

_ I’ll keep that in mind.  _

*

When Christen sees Kelley next, it’s nearly a week later and early morning. They’re tucked into a quiet cafe where everything is loud and close together and it could be suffocating, but Christen’s lemon ricotta pancakes are too good for her to mind the minor details. 

“Tobin mentioned that she texted you,” Kelley says about halfway through her eggs and avocado toast, and Christen takes a long sip of her coffee so that she can give herself a moment to think about it. 

“Yeah,” Christen says with a shrug. “She did.”

Really, Christen is praying that Kelley will have more insight into Tobin’s state of mind than she currently does, but Kelley doesn’t seem to have anything to give. 

“What did you guys talk about?”

Christen shrugs again, dragging her fork through a puddle of syrup on her plate. 

“Stuff,” she says, unwilling to admit anything about the way Tobin has continued to respond, and how Christen has played into it with her. Nothing worth mentioning has happened or been said, but a part of Christen doesn’t want to share it with Kelley until she has more information on Tobin’s current situation. She doesn’t want to seem a fool. Besides - Tobin has been perfectly pleasant and distant, and Christen has followed her lead. 

_ If you need tickets, just let me or Kelley know. _

_ Work has been great, you know I love working with the girls.  _

_ Have you been well? _

Tobin really isn’t giving anything away, and Christen finds it hard to deal with her when she’s holding her cards close to her chest. 

_ I need to make sure I’ve got those days off. _

_ I hope you’ve been doing well.  _

_ I’ll let Kelley know if I can go, don’t worry. _

So Christen doesn’t give anything away either, finding herself checking her phone more often than she should, despite the fact that Tobin responds very infrequently. She knows that Tobin is busy, with work and working out and living her life with her own friends and possibly other people, and she’s never exactly been the kind of person to be glued to her phone. 

Kelley seems skeptical. 

“Just stuff?” she asks. “I mean, when I saw your name on her phone - “

“You shouldn’t be snooping, Kell,” Christen says. “You know better than that.”

Kelley ignores her, instead just reaching across to steal a bite of Christen’s pancakes. 

“She didn’t even tell me you two were talking,” Kelley continues before forking the bite into her mouth. 

Christen frowns at that. 

“You mean you didn’t ask her to reach out to me?” she asks, confused.

“No,” Kelley says slowly, pausing with her mouth full. “Is that what she told you?”

“I guess not,” Christen says uncertainly, “but she kind of made it sound that way.” There’s a temptation to reach for her phone, where Tobin is still on Do Not Disturb, and scroll up to the top so she can see exactly how the first text was phrased. She resists though, knowing the chances of Kelley grabbing her phone and reading every single word of their exchange is simply too high. 

“So what did she say?” Kelley pokes. 

Christen adjusts herself in her seat - she didn’t think she had eaten too much, but the waistband of her jeans is already feeling snug. It doesn’t bode well for Thanksgiving, which is only a week away.

“Just something about how you wanted me to come to the championship, and she didn’t want to be in the way of that,” Christen finally mutters. 

“Oh, well yeah,” Kelley says. “I mean, I told her that. I wasn’t going to blindside either of you.”

Christen shifts again, unable to get comfortable. Her clothes feel too restrictive, and she can’t wait to get back to her place and change into something else. 

“Kelley,” she says awkwardly, “you don’t have to be like that.”

“Be like what?” Kelley asks, and it’s just the perfect mix of innocence and cluelessness that Christen almost believes it. 

“Weird about it,” Christen says. 

Kelley goes to say something, but then their waiter appears and asks if they need anything. Christen doesn’t, just the check, and Kelley asks for more coffee. 

“Look,” Christen says, before Kelley can say whatever she had in mind. “Tobin and I were never really a thing. We were more of an ‘almost’ than anything. You don’t need to walk on eggshells around us. At least, not around me. I can’t speak for her.”

Kelley isn’t buying any of it, from the sound of her voice and the look on her face. 

“Christen,” she says through her last mouthful of toast, “the two of you were in love with each other.”

Christen hangs her head, staring at her hands in her lap. She doesn’t look up for a while, not while Kelley gets her fresh coffee and hands over her debit card before Christen even gets a chance to look at the check. 

“That wasn’t fair,” Christen says carefully, glancing up at her. “I wanted to get it - we both know this place is a bit of a trek for you.”

“Let me treat you,” Kelley says dismissively. “Are you seriously going to downplay what happened?”

Christen just picks at her cuticles and doesn’t answer because the truth is complicated. What happened for her was serious, as serious as anything could be. She’d been ready to commit to Tobin, commit in ways she hadn’t yet been ready to speak aloud, but she’d never had any idea of where Tobin’s head had been until it was too late. Christen had been head over heels and lost and entirely unsure of where the two of them had stood, and in the end, her own insecurities ended up ruining a good thing before it could even really get started. 

“Whatever it was, is over,” Christen says with a sense of finality that she prays doesn’t betray the shred of hope she’s been holding onto. “That’s really all that matters. Things happen. We move on. You won’t have to worry about it, Kell. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Kelley says, looking immensely pleased. “Because we play next Friday, and I really want you there.”

Christen groans instantly. 

“Black Friday?”

“It’s later in the day,” Kelley says with an eye roll. “Trust me, you’ll have more than enough time to go shopping. Besides - you know as well as I do that all the good deals are online these days.”

“We always used to go when we were kids,” Christen says as fiercely as she can manage even though she knows it’s a flimsy excuse. “Everyone but my dad. I promised my mom we could at least go see what’s out there.”

“That’s fine,” Kelley says quickly. “I totally understand. But will you come? It’s a playoff game.”

Christen vacillates for a moment, thinking of her quiet phone and Tobin and this moving on that she would like to actually accomplish at some point. Maybe the best way to figure out how far she has to go on that front is to get a good baseline - figure out exactly how over Tobin she is already. She ignores the nausea creeping up the back of her throat, and forgoes the last of her coffee for some water. 

“Get me tickets,” Christen tells Kelley, who instantly smiles widely. “Good ones.”

“You know as well as I do that it’s all general admission,” Kelley says, already on her phone. “Just you? Or does Tyler want to come?”

“Just me,” she says quickly. 

Kelley doesn’t push, for which Christen is grateful, and not too long afterwards the two of them separate, Kelley promising to email Christen her ticket. 

When Christen gets home, she peels off her clothes and winces when she realizes the damage her tight jeans did to her leg wound. The friction has forced the bandage half off and while it isn’t bleeding all over her jeans, it looks like the forming scab has been completely destroyed. She sighs and goes to clean it and redress it, wondering how she’s going to manage to get it to heal properly. 

The last thing she wants is an infection, something to turn a relatively minor cut into a deep and gaping scar, but she’s going to have to be a lot more careful if she wants to avoid that. 


	3. needy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> needy - Ariana Grande

Thanksgiving is a quiet affair. Christen feels a little sad, especially on Thursday night when Channing’s new boyfriend shows up and is offered an invitation to go shopping with them. Part of Christen resents the fact that her mom and Tyler don’t speak up, thinking that Black Friday has always been their day alone together, but she doesn’t make a big deal out of it. She has to remind herself that whatever happened between her and Tobin, it had never been close to the kind of relationship where she could take Tobin home, no matter how badly she wanted to. For the most part, it ends up being a relatively normal day out shopping for all of them. 

She only falters once, in the food court when her mom wants to peer at a new kiosk where workers are scraping rolls of ice cream off of frozen metal. Tobin would get a kick out of this, Christen thinks, smiling despite herself. 

It’s a few hours later that she’s nervously pulling up to the Bruins’ women’s soccer field, phone in hand with her electronic ticket pulled up. Kelley had emailed her the ticket and Christen is thankful that she’s a bit early so she can get a decent seat before the stands begin to fill up. 

She’s no stranger to collegiate soccer games - she’d attended most of Kelley’s at Stanford, and back before things with Tobin went sour, she’d frequented this particular field a dozen times. It’s funny, she thinks as she climbs makes her way between the bleachers, how she’d met Tobin here, through Kelley, thanks to this job. It’s not really funny at all, she knows that, but chuckling to herself helps to settle her nerves when she sits down on the cold bench.

Christen checks her phone - she texted Kelley when she arrived, and is waiting for a response. She can see the players and their coach on the field, going through warmups, but neither Kelley nor Christen are there, and Christen figures that they’re back in the locker rooms doing something or other. It’s not a big deal, she just wants to see her best friend before her team takes the field, so she waits patiently and watches the players in between checking her phone. 

_ Where are you? Come back and say hi while the team finishes warmups! _

Christen smiles as Kelley’s text comes through. She’s been back in the locker rooms once or twice before, but feels a little too nervous about the situation to take Kelley up on that offer.

_ Don’t want to intrude, it’s fine if you can’t come to me. See you later? _

Kelley’s response is near instantaneous.

_ Halftime, yeah? _

Christen texts back to confirm, and then it’s not long before the team heads back in for one last huddle. The fact that it’s Black Friday means that the stands aren’t completely full, but the attendance is high enough to support the fact that it’s a playoff game. Eventually everyone comes out and things go as they’re supposed to, with Christen spotting Kelley next to the head coach as the players take their positions on the field. It isn’t until after kickoff that Kelley finally pulls her attention away from her job long enough to turn around and scan the crowd. Christen just barely lifts a hand in greeting, not wanting to be horribly obvious when she’s alone, but Kelley still spots her almost instantly and waves back very enthusiastically.

Just as Christen thinks she’ll wave back with a little more vigor, she catches a glimpse of Tobin out of the corner of her eye, and she near freezes. 

She’s just as beautiful as always, Christen thinks, as her stomach lurches with attraction. Tobin has always had this pull over her that felt magnetic at times, and it feels ridiculous, but Christen could swear she’s feeling that again as she watches her. Her gaze only lingers for a second, maybe two, but it feels like ages as Christen takes in her slim form, bouncy ponytail, the way she ambles towards the bench with a quiet confidence - 

Christen sucks in a deep breath and tears her eyes away, looking back to Kelley whose focus has already been diverted elsewhere. Thank goodness for that, because Christen knows for a fact that she doesn’t want to be caught ogling her ex...something. Tobin was never hers, Christen reminds herself, and she certainly isn’t about to be hers. Her stomach gives another lurch, this time much less pleasant and veering into nauseous territory, and she decides to watch the game so that she doesn’t end up vomiting the leftovers she’d had for a late lunch all over the grass in front of her. 

It’s hard, as the first half goes on, for Christen to pay much attention to what’s happening on the pitch. The girls are good but their opponents proving to be tough to score against, and it makes for a relatively uninteresting half. By the time the whistle is blown, the score is 0-0 and Christen is more than ready to hug Kelley hello. 

She’s done this before, gone to the entrance to the locker rooms to meet Kelley. In the past she would have met with Tobin, too, but she tries hard not to think about that as she walks. 

Not hard enough, though.

They would stand there, hidden by vending machines in the outdoor hallway, Christen leaning against the wall while Tobin would do her best to act casual while gazing into Christen’s eyes. It was never for long - Tobin had a job to do and Christen didn’t want to interfere. Not to mention, neither of them were ready to be up front with each other about how they felt. Instead, they would stand there, exchanging long glances while their hearts just about beat out of their chests, talking about everything and nothing and dying to kiss each other. 

By the time she reaches the door, Christen has shaken her head and told herself that this time it isn’t the same. She barely knows Tobin anymore and Tobin barely knows her, and that’s just the way it is. She’s here for Kelley. 

Kelley opens the door just as Christen has pulled out her phone and contemplating calling her. 

“Hi!” Kelley says excitedly, throwing her arms around Christen’s shoulders. Christen smiles into Kelley’s vaguely sweaty neck, arms wrapping around her waist. “How are you?”

“Good!” Christen says excitedly as they pull away from each other. She tucks her hair behind her ear, taking in Kelley’s training gear. It’s always so strange to see her in sportswear that isn’t cardinal red. “How’s the game going?” 

“Shouldn’t you know?” Kelley asks, raising an eyebrow as they drift further down the exterior wall, out of the way. “You’re supposed to be watching.”

“And I am,” Christen says hastily. “I am, I promise. I just wondered what the thoughts were on your end.”

“They’re good,” Kelley says, and she’s easy and breezy. “I mean, as long as the other team keeps it clean and the ref makes good calls, there’s no reason for me to be bothered.”

“Oh, I know,” Christen says, thinking back to all of Kelley’s on-field tantrums during college. “God forbid you get fouled.”

“Hey,” Kelley says seriously, “I’m just looking out for my players.”

“Of course,” Christen says with a smile. “How was your Thanksgiving? Spend it with your girls again?”

“Well, when they make you play a game on Black Friday,” Kelley says, letting Christen nod and finish the thought herself. “It was good though, some of the seniors have kitchens and can actually cook. One of the freshers brought the worst apple pie though - I probably won’t forgive her anytime soon.”

“What was your contribution?” Christen asks, trying to stifle a laugh at the thought of Kelley eating bad pie in the middle of a kitchen full of college-aged girls.

“Well I was hosting,” Kelley says. “My turn this year - we rotate, Jill and Tobin and me, you know that. So I was in charge of the turkey.”

“Wow,” Christen says, crossing her arms and nodding, impressed. “You actually cooked a turkey?”

“Hell no!” Kelley exclaims. “No way. We both know my oven is purely for decoration. No, I ordered a couple of smoked turkeys online. Alex gave me the idea, since we both can’t cook to save our lives. I guess it’s what she does with her family.”

Christen knows that both Tobin and Kelley are close with Alex, thanks to their years playing club soccer in southern California, but she’s only met the professional soccer player a handful of times and just nods and pretends to understand.

“Work smarter, not harder,” she offers, and Kelley agrees.

“That’s my motto,” she says, jabbing both thumbs into her chest. 

“What happened to ‘work hard, play hard?’” Christen teases. 

The creaking of door hinges doesn’t register until it’s too late and she hears a low, relaxed voice that makes Christen instantly queasy. 

“Yeah, Kelley still lives by that,” Tobin calls out. “Hi, Chris.”

Christen is facing away from Tobin, and it takes everything in her to resist turning around. She knows that the moment she looks at her, she’ll be gone: head over heels all over again. Instead of giving into the pull, instead of letting her heart lead her to the lanky-legged ex-something of hers, Christen just forces herself to remain neutral. She isn’t even sure if she should respond, but thankfully Kelley takes care of that for her. 

“Shut up,” Kelley calls back. “I don’t have to come back in, do I?”

“Soon, if you can,” Tobin says, voice still slightly raised but not as much as before. Really, they’re only yards apart, and there aren’t many people in the area. It’s not loud, and Christen’s ears can easily hear every syllable that casually rolls off Tobin’s tongue. 

“Fuck Jill,” Kelley grumbles, just loud enough to Tobin to hear. “Surely she can give a pep talk, right?”

“You’ve got five, Kell,” Tobin says. Then with a soft voice that Christen almost misses - “Bye, Chris.”

Kelley doesn’t say anything immediately, instead just looking at Christen with an expression that at first seems annoyed but then morphs into confused. 

“Are you blushing?” she asks, suspicious. 

“No,” Christen says like a reflex, her hand shooting up to feel her cheek, feeling for any warmth. It’s just there, barely, but she shakes her head nevertheless. “I could be windblown, maybe.”

“There’s no wind here,” Kelley points out. Christen just shrugs, and Kelley seemingly lets it go. “Well, before I go back in, want to tell me about your Thanksgiving?”

Christen thinks of the year before last when Kelley had juggled Thanksgiving with the players and then with Christen’s family, how she’d been there for her after Christen cried on her shoulder about how she’d wanted Tobin to come - just as a friend, even - but had gotten shot down. She thinks of how Tobin had claimed that she had a responsibility to the team, claimed that even though Jill was hosting she was due to make the green bean casserole and was so sorry but just couldn’t make the timing work, and maybe another time. She thinks of how Kelley had entertained her in the months after, when Christen had needed a friend, after the two of them had nearly fallen out after what had happened with Tobin coming between them. She thinks of how Kelley had been so good to her, rekindling their friendship and helping Christen ease back into a sense of normalcy until it had truly been achieved. 

“Yeah,” Christen says, clearing her throat and pushing any and all emotional thoughts from her head. “Yeah, let me tell you about what my dad did with the sweet potatoes.”

*

After the game, Kelley texts Christen again. 

_ Want to come back? I can rush through the post game stuff and we can maybe go to a bar? _

Christen’s thumbs tap at her screen, and she bites her lips as she considers her answer. 

_ I’ve got work tomorrow, otherwise I would! _

They both know that even if she didn’t have to be up crazy early in the morning, there’s a slim chance that Christen would accept the invitation. Kelley might not exactly know that Tobin is a huge reason why she doesn’t want to be hanging around the team or personnel, but she does know that Christen isn’t a big fan of bars or nights that last past ten pm. They agree to see each other again sometime next week, if Kelley can find time before the championship, and that’s good enough for Christen as she finds her car. 

Her phone vibrates when she’s barely left campus, trying to navigate the still busy streets, and she’s a little surprised because she didn’t expect Kelley to text back - at least not so soon. Looking down at her phone makes her breath catch, and her stomach jolts instantly. She hates the visceral reaction that Tobin’s mere name gives her, and reads the text at the first red light she hits. 

_ It was nice to see you. Maybe we can talk next time. _

It’s too nice, overreaching considering the amount of contact they had with each other. Christen doesn’t want to respond: she wants to be hard and unfeeling, immune to the hold Tobin has on her, and she locks her phone for the rest of the ride home. She convinces herself that she won’t reply, that she’ll see Tobin next weekend, maybe. 

Of course, that works about as well as to be expected. Before the night is over, snuggled up in her old bedroom-turned-guest room after telling her parents goodnight, she has a moment of weakness that leaves her with regret long after she shoves her phone under her pillow. Christen lets her dogs cuddle her - she knows they miss her, and she sometimes hates that they’re so comfortable in the house with its fenced in yard and they’d never make it at her apartment. Regardless, they still love her, enough to wiggle close and help her feel secure enough to sleep. 

_ It was nice to see you too. And yes, next time.  _

Christen dreams of texted confessions, late night phone calls, and searing green jealousy. None of it seems fair - she didn’t ask for this, she thinks when she wakes up in the morning. She didn’t ask for the never-ending anxiety and the resulting physical symptoms. She didn’t ask to begin to again fall for someone who could never commit in the first place. She didn’t ask for Tobin Heath, with her toothpaste-commercial smile and her shiny hair, her awkward mumble and her sweet words. Christen didn’t ask for any of this, but she’s got it anyway. 

The problem is, she doesn’t know how to deal with any of it. 

*

Work on Saturday isn’t bad. Weekends tend to be quiet, with less administrative staff stalking around like they own the place. Sunday is spent relaxing at the apartment and running errands, and Christen finishes the day with a therapeutic workout at the gym she belongs to. She’s not hardcore into fitness like the former athletes she’s spent time with, but a half hour of cardio and some stretching is good for her soul. Monday is spent back at work, and Christen gears up for two days in a row with focus and a determination to stay away from her phone. Instead she throws herself into her job, smiling kindly at her patients and joking with their families. She passes medications with patience, explaining each pills’ purpose and side effects as many times as needed. Her phone remains in her purse in the break room, and she doesn’t even check it during lunch. 

Christen feels proud of herself. 

After lunch, she sits at the nurses station to chart on her four patients. Heather, charge nurse for the day, comes to sit at the computer next to hers after a few minutes. 

“Busy day, huh?” Heather asks, logging in and shooting a smile at Christen. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay on the good side of that family in fourteen. They nearly had Julie crying yesterday, and you know how great she is.”

“Poor Julie,” Christen says. “They are kind of high maintenance but I just try to take my time in there. I really just think they like the attention - they want to know their dad is being taken care of.”

“That wife is the worst,” Heather says darkly. “If you need help with her, let me know. I managed to smooth things over once already, maybe I can do it again.”

“I’ll let you know,” Christen says, shooting her a smile that’s easily returned. Heather isn’t much older but she’s got plenty of experience and a distaste for management; Christen likes her, and definitely doesn’t mind answering to her. 

Heather takes a few phone calls and Christen busies herself with her work, clicking through her patients’ charts and feeling immensely thankful that things are calm enough for the time being so she can really get into it. She barely even notices when Becky comes over to talk to Heather, only just aware of her presence. It isn’t until a hand gets waved in front of her face that she blinks and looks away from the screen, turning to her left to see what’s going on. 

“Earth to Christen,” Heather says, grinning good-naturedly as Becky leans back against the counter in the middle of the u-shaped nursing station. “You with us?”

“Sorry,” Christen says a bit sheepishly. “What’s up?”

“I was trying to ask if you wouldn’t mind trading a shift,” Becky says. “My boyfriend is trying to whisk me away on some romantic getaway this weekend. Do you think we could trade? I’ll work your Thursday if you work my Saturday.”

“Oh,” Christen says, chewing on her bottom lip. “I mean, I would, but I’m kind of supposed to do something on Saturday.”

“That’s fine!” Becky assures her quickly. “It’s just that Heather said those dates weren’t blocked out or PTO or anything, so I figured it was worth a shot.”

“No, I ended up asking Dawn to give me off Friday and Saturday,” Christen explains. She reaches down to itch at her shin, a few inches below her knee where her shaving wound is still trying to heal. 

“That makes sense,” Heather says, watching Christen itch. “What have you got planned?”

“My friend works for the UCLA women’s soccer team,” Christen says, after a brief moment of wondering whether this information is too personal or if she’s being paranoid around people she’s known for nearly five years. “They’re competing for a national title this weekend so I’ll be supporting her.”

“Oh, nice,” Becky says with a nod. “That’s got to be a pretty nice gig.”

“She likes it,” Christen says with a shrug, rubbing where she knows a flimsy bandaid is covering the fragile scab. “I don’t know how, especially with all the drills she runs with the team, but to each their own.”

“I am perfectly fine with the exercise I get running around this place all day long,” Heather declares, holding up her wrist to show off her smartwatch. “I get almost ten thousand steps every day.”

“I get almost the same,” Christen agrees. “I’m sorry, Becky.”

“That’s really fine,” Becky says, and Christen can tell that she means it. “I’m going to go ask Alyssa.”

She leaves and Christen scratches more, trying her best not to itch too hard. She might need a new bandaid if she’s not careful. 

“Your leg okay?” Heather asks, nodding to Christen’s hand. Christen hesitates - the wound seems to be taking a suspiciously long time to heal, but it seems pointless to ask for advice on what to do when Christen is perfectly capable of treating herself. 

“Just cut myself shaving a while ago,” Christen says, doing her best to sound dismissive. “It’s taking its sweet time to heal.”

“Want me to look at it?” Heather offers, but Christen shakes her head. 

“I’ll be okay,” she says. “I might have stolen some wound care supplies, so I’ve gotten all the help I need.”

Heather grins at her.

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry,” she says. 

“Good,” Christen jokes with her. “I was worried about the department finding out.”

They both laugh for a moment before Christen goes back to her charting and Heather goes back to her emails. 

“Are you here tomorrow?” Heather asks without looking up. 

“Yeah,” Christen asks, looking at her sideways before sliding her eyes back to her computer. “Why?”

“Because I don’t have to babysit you,” Heather says. “It’s always nice having you on shift - one less nurse to attempt to micromanage.”

“I get the impression that you don’t like micromanaging in general,” Christen remarks, feeling oddly proud of herself as Heather nods in response. 

“Besides,” Heather adds, logging off her screen and getting up from her chair. “You’re not on your phone in the hallways all the time. If I’ve got to tell Ali one more time to stop texting her girlfriend in between rounding on her patients, I’m going to hide the thing in the med room.”

Christen stifles a laugh as Heather walks away, but considering where her phone currently is and why, it’s hard to forget that if it was up to her, she would be just as attached to her phone as Ali, and for the same reason why. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is all i had pre-written but don't worry, i've been chugging along and plan on keeping this updated relatively regularly. i've been listening to a lot of ariana grande and it's so easy to relate the chapters to her songs. if you wanna listen or look up the lyrics, that would be cool. thanks for reading so far !


	4. My Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Everything - Ariana Grande

Kelley doesn’t have time for Christen until after her last practice on Thursday, which works out just fine for Christen. She’s been working with the exception of Wednesday, which had been full of relaxing and running any absolutely necessary errands. After a full shift at work, she goes home and manages to shower quickly before Kelley is knocking at her door with a six pack of beer and a bag of food. 

“Hot,” Kelley says, raising her eyebrows at Christen’s towel. 

“You’re early,” Christen says, ushering her in so she can close the door as quickly as possible. If she let Kelley have her way, she’d linger in the entrance as long as possible, just to increase the probability of anyone seeing Christen’s unclothed body. She’s wicked like that. 

“I ordered online,” Kelley says. “It’s so much easier and faster when you just have to pick it up instead of waiting in line.”

“Everyone knows that, Kell,” Christen tells her as she heads to the back of the apartment to her bedroom, leaving the door open but reaching for her pajamas. “You haven’t discovered anything revolutionary." 

She can hear Kelley rummaging around in her kitchen, and by the time she’s pulled on a pair of baby-soft joggers and a worn white t-shirt, Kelley is flopping down on her unmade bed with an open beer. 

“I can clearly see your nipples through that shirt,” Kelley says casually, watching Christen in the mirror. Christen just ignores her, brushing out her wet hair and trying to decide what to do with it. 

“I’m not putting on a bra for you,” Christen says. 

“Fine by me,” Kelley says with a shrug. “I love ‘em as much as the next person.”

Christen knows Kelley is just being antagonistic, so she twists her hair into a bun before securing it with a scrunchie. She then takes Kelley’s bottle from her, just as she’s tipping it to her mouth, and steals a swig. 

“Hey!” Kelley complains, hopping off the bed and following Christen into the kitchen. “Get your own!”

“I’m planning on it,” Christen says, letting Kelley take back her beer before getting one of her own. Kelley left the bottle opener on top of the counter, and Christen works the cap off with minor difficulty before grabbing her takeout container. “What do you want to watch tonight?”

“Something I don’t have to pay attention to,” Kelley groans, settling into the corner of the couch that she claims every time she comes over. Christen sits in her own seat, legs crossed, and takes a sip of her beer before exchanging it for the tv remote. 

“Stressed over the semis tomorrow?” Christen suggests. 

“As if,” Kelley scoffs. “I don’t do stressed, you know that.”

She’s mostly right, Christen thinks as she plays a random episode of Friends. 

“What about that one time before you played North Carolina in junior year?” Christen reminds her, and Kelley scowls and shakes her head. 

“The hangover is what made me puke,” she defends. 

“Is that why you’re drinking now?” Christen asks, finally opening up her food. It’s a bowl from Kelley’s latest favorite place, a clean-eating vegan venture that Christen can just barely tolerate. She digs into her quinoa and avocado, wiggling her eyebrows at Kelley and trying not to laugh at the murderous expression on her face. “Thinking that in case your nerves get the best of you tomorrow, you can blame it on the beer?”

“What are nerves?” Kelley asks serenely, palms raised to the ceiling and beer bottle tucked between her legs. 

Christen laughs and lets herself lapse into quiet while the two of them eat and watch tv. It feels good to unwind with Kelley like this, reminding her of their college days when they’d do the same. The only difference is that back then they had their laptops next to them and were attempting to finish essays for their classes while eating boxes of mediocre pizza from the dining hall, and Christen certainly doesn’t miss those parts of it. Two episodes later, Christen’s finished her beer and opted to switch to water while Kelley is nearly finished with a second one. 

“It’s not like it’s a work night for you,” Kelley snickers, stretching her legs out into Christen’s territory. Christen pushes her cold toes against Kelley’s calves, but she doesn’t even flinch. “You could have a second one.”

“Maybe I don’t want a second one,” Christen says smartly. Kelley just rolls her eyes and keeps drinking. “Besides, you know you have to drive back to yours, right? Maybe you shouldn’t finish that.”

“Watch me,” Kelley says, maintaining eye contact as she takes a particularly long pull from her bottle. When she’s done she wipes her mouth against the back of her hand, smirking obnoxiously. 

“You can’t stay the night,” Christen tries to tell her. She’s long been immune to Kelley’s charms, but being a mama bear is her weak spot - she can’t help but want to help out her friends. 

“Watch me,” Kelley repeats. 

“I don’t have an extra toothbrush!” Christen tries to protest, but they both know it’s fruitless. Kelley is going to drink at least one more beer before feigning intoxication, claiming that she’s in no condition to drive. She’s done it before at restaurants, forcing Christen to drive her home, and at the houses of girls after sleeping with them and not wanting to stay any later than deemed necessary. So Christen just lets Kelley insist that she’ll make do with some toothpaste and floss, and she relaxes further into her couch and accepts the beer that Kelley eventually hands her. It’s Kelley’s third, half full and half warm and she doesn’t want it anymore, but Christen nurses it while they watch the tv and Kelley chatters away about the team’s chances of winning. 

“The girls have what it takes,” Kelley says determinedly, and Christen knows she’s not even close to drunk - what with her tolerance, she’s probably barely even tipsy - but the way she’s gazing off into space is a little concerning. Christen waits a minute, and then decides to ask. 

“Are you alright?”

Kelley’s eyes snap back into focus and she grins at Christen, looking more like her normal self. 

“Yeah, why?”

Christen shrugs, avoiding Kelley’s eyes. 

“Just wondering,” she says. “You looked a little funny.”

“Maybe you’re projecting,” Kelley says, and Christen bites her lip, frowning as she taps the brown glass in her hand. 

“Am I not alright?”

Kelley snorts. 

“Christen, come on.”

“What?” Christen asks defensively before looking up. Kelley’s trying to that thing again, where she looks directly at her with a quirked eyebrow until Christen spills her guts, but she doesn’t want to think about anything else this late after a full shift, so she just focuses on draining the bottle. When she finishes and goes to get up from the couch, Kelley isn’t far behind. 

“Come on,” she wheedles, helping Christen collect their trash and throw it away. “Don’t act like you haven’t been weird lately.”

“Weirder than usual?” Christen asks, and she can see Kelley hesitate for a brief second. 

“Well, maybe not,” Kelley allows. “You’re always pretty weird.”

“Maybe it’s just the holidays,” Christen says, lifting a single shoulder and looking at Kelley with as much confidence as she can. “They can be stressful with work and everything, you know.”

“I know,” Kelley says. “Yet another reason why you should just go ahead and quit your job.”

“April,” Christen reminds her. “I can quit after April.”

She knows Kelley still doesn’t agree, but manages to avoid an argument by heading for the bathroom. 

“Can I have pajamas?” Kelley asks, following her after a moment. “I showered after practice but these clothes aren’t exactly fresh.”

“You’re gross,” Christen tells her, turning on the tap and reaching for her toothbrush. “Get something old from my dresser.”

When Kelley reappears in the bathroom, she’s dressed in an old Stanford sweatshirt and faded boxer shorts.

“Gotta represent,” Kelley says, pounding her chest twice with her fist as Christen rinses her mouth. Her hair is brushed back in a low ponytail, and she looks so soft for a moment that Christen feels like it’s nearly a decade ago and they’re in one of their dorms, staying up late for no good reason other than the fact that they can. “Especially after Saturday - I’ll be wearing Bruins gear exclusively.”

“You’re a traitor,” Christen says, squatting and reaching under her sink. “Here, I lied about not having a toothbrush for you.”

“You’re so sweet. See, I knew you loved me staying over,” Kelley says. When Christen stands, she reaches over to press a smacking kiss to her cheek. “Shit. Don’t tell Tobin I did that.”

Christen’s heart skips several beats, like a stuttering record. 

“Um,” she says, slowly turning towards the door, “why would I?”

“You know,” Kelley says in an attempt to seem breezy. Christen grabs onto the doorframe, lingering and praying that Kelley elaborates and says what she wants to hear. “She’s always been convinced that you and I aren’t totally just friends.”

“Even though we’ve told her a million times?” Christen responds, her heart skipping again before beginning to regulate. There’s nothing to worry about, nothing to get excited about, she tells her herself as she enters her bedroom. “We love each other but not like that. 

Kelley doesn’t say anything right away, the sounds of her brushing her teeth reaching Christen as she rubs moisturizer into her face and braids her hair into pigtails, figuring she’ll deal with making it look nice tomorrow. She tries not to linger too long on the thought that she wants to look her best at the game, and gets into bed after plugging her phone in and leaving it on the nightstand. Short of using it to confirm the identity of a Friends guest star, she’s been off it all evening - not for lack of want. Tobin hasn’t texted her, not that she needs to, and Christen looks at the last message exchanged between them every time she opens up her messages. 

_Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow!_

She’d sent it earlier while at work, eating a late lunch of baby carrots and hummus while wondering if it was a good idea or not. Now with her stomach dropping to the floor, she’s feeling like she doesn’t matter to Tobin at all and she shouldn’t bother with talking to her at all at any point of the weekend. It’s like having whiplash, the way she goes from thinking that Tobin is attractive and sweet and inviting, to thinking that she’s aloof and uninterested and someone that Christen wants to push away far beyond how far apart they already are. It’s ridiculous, she knows, swinging from one end of the spectrum to another day in and day out, and just serves to prove what she already knows but doesn’t want to deal with: whatever she had with Tobin is over, and even if it wasn’t, it’s unhealthy enough to not warrant a continuance. 

So when Kelley climbs into bed with a certain look on her face that looks suspiciously close to the one she wears when she wants Christen to tell her something, Christen settles down into her pillows and rolls to her side, facing away. 

“Christen,” Kelley says, uncharacteristically solemn. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” Christen says, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. The room turns dark, illuminated only by the moonlight peeking through the mostly-closed blinds. “Just tired.”

“I feel like you’re upset,” Kelley says, her voice just a little too loud for the circumstances. “Should I not stay over? I can still go home, if you want me to.”

It’s not like Kelley to offer, so Christen just sighs and shakes her head as she rolls onto her back. 

“No, you know I don’t mind having you here,” Christen says quietly. “But if you keep asking me what’s wrong, I’m going to have to slap you.”

Kelley chortles to herself and wiggles around getting comfortable. Christen hates how restless she can be, but at least at this point in their life they aren’t trying to share a twin dorm bed. 

“Fine,” Kelley says reluctantly, speaking a bit softer. “But it’s just because I care about you, you know. That’s why I keep asking.”

“I know,” Christen says, barely audible. “Thanks, Kell.”

Kelley is asleep in seconds, breathing just as loud as always and on the verge of snoring. Christen is thankful she’s so exhausted, and instead of kicking Kelley until she quiets (as she’s had to in the past), she manages to fall asleep soon after.

* 

The team beats Virginia in the semi-finals on Friday night and Christen cheers and yells from the stands as much as she can without feeling foolish. Kelley better know how lucky she is, Christen thinks, knowing that there really isn’t anyone else she would do this for. She lets Kelley convince her to come down to the sideline to make up for the fact that they didn’t get to see each other during halftime - the team had been too busy trying to figure out how to recover from being down a goal. Now that they’ve won though, 2-1 being the final score thanks to an excellent goal off of a corner kick and a well deserved penalty awarded in the 78th minute, the team seems ready to celebrate. They don’t seem to care that they’ve got another game in less than twenty-four hours, Christen observes, as Kelley opens the building’s main door with her shirt already off despite the fact that the sun is setting and the temperature is dropping rapidly. 

“Come in, come in,” Kelley says, breathless and barely audible over the music playing in the locker room. Christen doesn’t have much room nor reason to care for the girls on the team, but she knows they’re near and dear to Kelley’s (and Tobin’s) heart, so she smiles and waves as Kelley walks her through. 

“Hot date?” one of them hollers after Kelley with a confident grin. 

“You know it!” Kelley calls back, winding an arm around Christen’s waist. Christen just rolls her eyes and plays along, knowing that anyone who knows Kelley should know that she’s almost always joking. 

“They look happy,” Christen comments, trying to focus on what’s right in front of her rather than what could be in front of her. She’s nervous, afraid of running into Tobin, who is nowhere to be seen. It makes Christen both glad that she doesn’t have to worry about interacting with her, but also nervous about what Tobin might be up to. 

“I mean, they’re going to the finals,” Kelley says, glancing behind them and letting go of Christen as they approach the assistant coaches’ office. Kelley shares it with Tobin, Christen knows that, but she’s still nowhere to be seen, so she has no qualms about sitting down on the worn leather sofa pressed up against the wall. “They better be happy. I worked hard for this, you know.”

“Of course,” Christen says with a grin. “Congratulations, Kelley.”

“Thank you,” Kelley says, absolutely beaming. “I can’t believe you’re giving me a real compliment for once.”

“I compliment you all the time,” Christen protests.

“You tell me that my breath smells and I need to brush my hair,” Kelley says with a raised eyebrow. 

“Only because I love you, and you need to know,” Christen says. The loud music and exclamations are infectious, and Christen can’t help glancing out the open doorway every time a particularly rambunctious noise comes crashing in. “Shouldn’t you and Tobin be celebrating?”

“She’s busy helping Jill with something,” Kelley says dismissively, logging into her desktop. “And I’ve got a couple things to email out before we leave, but everyone who’s legal is supposed to head to this bar after so I’ll tell the girls they did a job well done there.”

“Oh, good for you,” Christen says, a little surprised. “I don’t want to keep you.”

“Are you not coming?” Kelley asks in surprise, looking up from her screen. Christen taps her fingers on her crossed legs, trying to remember if Kelley had ever invited her. 

“I assume it’s a team thing,” she says awkwardly. “And besides, the game tomorrow is pretty early - “

“It’s at five,” Kelley says as though that makes it perfectly okay to go drinking. “Come on, Christen. Just one drink, please? I promise the girls don’t bite.”

“Maybe,” Christen hedges carefully, still mindful of the Tobin situation, or lack thereof. “I don’t want to intrude. And I do have to drive home.”

“So then just one drink. Maybe two. And you won’t,” Kelley insists, eyes back on her computer and fingers flying across the keyboard. “Alright, I’m about done here. Do you mind if I get changed?”

“In here?” Christen asks, watching as Kelley spins in her chair before scooting towards the back of the small office, retrieving a gym bag. 

“Yeah,” Kelley says, rifling through it. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Nope,” Christen says, popping the p and pulling out her phone, busying herself while Kelley changes. It takes less than five minutes, some deodorant and body spray, cute black shorts and a matching top. Christen thinks it looks like she’ll be cold outside, but then again, she’s hardly one to talk in a tight goldenrod colored t-shirt and a pair of high-waisted denim shorts. The sunshine had kept the day warm for the most part, but Christen’s still had a UCLA sweatshirt tied around her waist in case the forecast is right and the temperature drops into the sixties. 

“Are you going to drive?” Christen asks as they head out. “Or do I need to drive you and then order you an Uber later?”

“Nah, Tobin said she’d take care of it,” Kelley says, locking her office door and tucking her keys in her waistband as they bypass the girls still in the locker room. There aren’t many left, but the ones remaining wave and shout goodbye to Kelley who returns the favor enthusiastically. When they’re finally outdoors, Christen welcomes the crisp cool autumn air with a deep inhale to steady herself. 

“I’ll meet you there?” Christen suggests. She wants to stick around to say hi to Tobin, but more than that she doesn’t want to have to awkwardly interact with her. It might be best to wait until they’re at the bar and Christen has a little alcohol in her - maybe that way she won’t come off as desperate.

“Yeah, of course,” Kelley says, already in her phone, fingers flying. “Let me text you the address. See you there!”

*

Christen hates to admit it, hates to admit that she was wrong, but she actually like the girls that Kelley works with very much. Sure, they make Christen feel like a senior citizen and they’re all loud and brash and close in a way that makes Christen jealous that she never did team sports, but the way they make her feel included is nice. There’s more than a handful of them, all dressed casually and drinking beers, and Kelley is at the forefront of the chaos they’re causing. 

“Come on,” one of them says, tugging at Christen’s arm. Mal, she thinks her name is? She reminds Christen of herself in college, if she doesn’t think too hard. “Even if we don’t know how to play, we can still watch!”

Christen lets herself be dragged in the direction of the pool table that Kelley has claimed, watching as her best friend selects her weapon of choice. 

“You’re not even that much shorter than me!” a blonde-ponytailed girl claims, trying to steal Kelley’s stick. “Come on, why do you need the shortest one?”

“Because I’m shorter than you,” Kelley retorts with a cheeky smile. 

Christen shakes her head and does her best to laugh. Ponytail girl - Sonny, she hears Mal call her - finally gives in and picks another stick, and it’s not long before the two teams go at it, Kelley going first and knocking a striped ball in the far left pocket. 

“I’ve never really played before,” Christen tells Mal who is motioning over a small, pale girl that Christen vaguely recognizes as having scored the team’s first goal. “Have you?”

“A couple times,” Mal says. “Kelley tries to tell us it’s a team building exercise.”

They both roll their eyes, knowing Kelley too well to believe that. 

“This is Rose,” Mal introduces Christen to the pale girl who has finally fought past all the others to get to them. “Rose, this is Christen. She’s Kelley’s friend from Stanford.”

“Oh, hi!” Rose says. “Did you play soccer too?”

“Oh, no,” Christen says with a laugh. “Do I look like I played? No, we started freshman year in the same dorm and then pledged the same sorority.”

Rose grins at her, adjusting her shorts. 

“You look like a sorority girl,” she tells her, but Christen can tell she doesn’t mean anything offensive by it. “Mal, where’s Lindsey?”

“Probably with Tobin,” Mal says, gesturing around absently. “You know Tobin never plays.”

Christen’s heart thumps hard at the mention, at the idea that there are other people out there who know her Tobin in an entirely different way than Christen does. It’s strange and it makes her blood burn, makes her wish that she knew Tobin the way that other people apparently do. 

“She owes me for my goal,” Rose says, standing on her tiptoes to glance around the dive bar. It’s dark and dingy and crowded and Christen doubts she’ll have any luck considering her short frame. “We each bet a beer on the other not scoring.”

Christen can’t help but laugh at that.

“Horan is tall,” Mal says after a sip of her beer. “You should be able to find her.”

Rose huffs. 

“She’s not as tall as Sam, though. Wish she was.”

“Sam’s the one playing against Kelley, right?” Christen asks, pointing to the tall blonde currently focused on getting an orange ball in. 

“Yeah, she’s six feet, the giant,” Mal says. “And that’s Abby, on her team.”

It’s a lot of names and faces but Christen has a good memory. It’s how she managed to finish nursing school while in a sorority, and she nods in understanding. 

“And you’re all twenty-one?”

“Or twenty-two,” Rose says, shaking her beer bottle in Christen’s face. “The younger girls on the team have fakes, but Kelley and Tobin don’t want them coming out with us in case they get in trouble. Okay, I’m going to find Lindsey. She promised me a beer and this one is almost gone.”

“Save Tierna if you find her,” Mal calls after her. “I’m pretty sure Moe was trying to get her to drink, and we all know she’s a baby lightweight!”

Christen laughs again. 

“You guys are something else,” she says. 

“We work hard,” Mal says with a shrug. “Hey, I might go get another drink too. Do you want to come?”

“I’m good for now,” Christen says, raising her beer bottle which is still half full. “I’m just going to watch Kelley get angrier and angrier as her partner keeps missing. 

Mal shakes her head. 

“Sonnett is the worst and yet she insists on forcing Kelley to let her be on her team,” she informs Christen. “She’s lucky that Kelley’s a sucker.”

Christen finds that odd because she doesn’t think Kelley could ever be accurately described as a sucker, but then Mal is gone and she’s left alone to lean against the wood-paneled walls while nursing her drink and watching the game. Sam seems very good despite her nervous exclamations, the perfect partner to Abby’s calm demeanor. Kelley’s good though, halfway on her way to drunk and yet still perfectly coordinated, and not even Sonnett can drag her down too much. Both teams are gunning for the eight ball before long, and Christen finally finishes her beer and is about to look for a place to dump it when someone comes up and dangles a bottle in her line of sight. 

“You looked like you could use another drink.”

It’s Tobin, wearing a leather jacket and a tentative smile on her lips. She’s as unfairly attractive as ever, her expression unidentifiable as she waits for Christen to respond. 

“Oh,” Christen says slowly, looking into Tobin’s eyes for a fraction of a second before darting her gaze down to the beer whose long neck is pinched between Tobin’s fingers. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Tobin says, but Christen doesn’t take the drink and Tobin’s head tilts to the side just barely, a clear question there. 

“I’m driving home tonight,” Christen tries to explain. “I drove to the game, and wasn’t planning on coming out, so - “

“You can handle another beer,” Tobin says, reaching her arm out further to knock the ice-cold glass against Christen’s hand, positioned in front of her and still clutching her empty bottle. “It’s not like it’s liquor.”

Christen flushes and prays Tobin doesn’t notice. 

“Come on, I’ll trade,” Tobin says, nodding towards Christen’s grip. 

Christen does so reluctantly, and Tobin makes the swap while managing to avoid touching Christen. Tobin dumps the old beer on a tables a few yards away and for a moment Christen thinks she isn’t coming back, she just brought Christen a drink and that’s the end of their time together, but then she’s ambling back over and leaning against the wall a reasonable distance away. Close enough to hear each other, but far enough away that Christen’s can’t feel her warmth or smell the shampoo on her still-damp hair. She clearly showered after the game which seems a little odd considering no one else is sporting wet hair, but it’s not up to her to question it. 

“Thank you,” Christen repeats.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tobin says, lifting a single shoulder in a partial shrug. “Rose and Mal kind of hijacked my drinking buddy, so…”

She trails off, lifting her own beer in a salute before taking a swig. 

“Everyone seems really great,” Christen says. “They seem to love you and Kelley.”

“We do alright by them,” Tobin says with another shrug. “Tomorrow is the real test.”

Christen just nods and sips at her new beer. 

“Kelley won,” Christen says, nodding at the pool table where Kelley is jumping up and down in celebration, flashing her middle fingers at Sam and Abby. Sonnett is yelling and throwing her body around in an interesting interpretation of dancing, and it makes Christen smile. 

“I’m surprised,” Tobin remarks. “Normally Sonnett forces her to lose.”

“What’s up with that?” Christen asks curiously. “Mal said Kelley’s a sucker, which I know to not be true.”

“She is for Sonnett,” Tobin says darkly. “Trust me, no one wants to know what’s up with that.”

Christen’s mind spins with possibilities, but before she can open her mouth and ask about any of them, Kelley’s whooping it up in their direction. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” she declares, coming close to place a sloppy kiss to Christen’s forehead. “Shit, I’m not supposed to do that. Tobin, lemme do you too.”

Tobin chuckles and obliges, leaning forward so Kelley can repeat the gesture. 

“Be good you two,” she tells them, shaking a pointer finger in their faces. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” Christen asks, trying to laugh even though her heart is pounding in her chest at the implications of her words. 

“Or else I’ll lock you in a room until you’re friends again,” Kelley says. She’s turning away too fast though, shouting at her players. “Alright, which one of you is buying me a drink?”

Tobin shakes her head and stifles a smile, biting her bottom lip in a way that Christen remembers dearly. 

“She’s out of control,” Tobin says, eyes following Kelley to the bar as she walks arm-in-arm with Sonnett. “How much has she had to drink?”

“I think we both know that Kelley doesn’t need to be drinking to act like this,” Christen says, looking past Tobin to keep watching Kelley as she meets up with some of the other girls standing at the bar. “But I might have seen her go through at least three beers and a shot already.”

“A shot?” Tobin exclaims. “Of what?”

“Tequila,” Christen answers, shaking her head in minor disapproval. “When she got here, I don’t know where you were, she tried to order everyone a round but only Sonnett and Mal and Abby were game.”

“Look at you, learning everyone’s name,” Tobin says, and if it were old times, Christen has a feeling that she’d reach over to elbow her. 

“I know,” Christen says, playing along with whatever dynamic they’ve settled on for the time being. “I’m not being a complete antisocial dummy.”

She lifts her beer to her mouth and nearly misses the slight frown on Tobin’s face as she drinks. 

“It’s good to see you,” Tobin says, switching track. “You’ve been well?”

“Yep,” Christen confirms. “I’m good.”

It’s weird. She doesn’t know how much information to give away or how much to pry, and when faced with the person she’s been wanting to spend time with for the last couple of months, she feels at a loss. Tobin is still the same person, she knows that, but it’s like an entirely different side of her is currently standing next to Christen. 

“It would have been nice to see you last week,” Tobin says, and while her voice isn’t exactly soft - it’s hard to be, in a packed bar with loud music - it’s different than it was a few moments before. “Say hi, and stuff.”

“I wanted to be home,” Christen says, and it’s not a total lie. “Kelley kind of pressured me into going, but you know, holidays and family and stuff.”

Tobin hums in acknowledgment, and Christen’s isn’t sure that she’s bought it. 

“It’s nice to see you now,” Christen offers up, looking sideways to see Tobin’s pensive expression. As soon as she notices Christen looking at her though, it melts away to reveal something a little more neutral. 

“You too,” Tobin says, and it feels honest enough that Christen believes her. “You look good, Chris.”

It’s small, nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it feels like everything to Christen in that moment. Her heart balloons with hope and it feels dangerous, as though she should turn back immediately lest she get her heart broken, but that’s the cruel thing about hope.

Hope keeps her pushing on.


	5. Into You

It’s dangerous, but that’s not stopping Christen. 

She doesn’t know why - she’s supposed to be careful, all the time. She’s careful with everything but her heart, apparently, she thinks as she waits outside the locker room with a compact mirror held to her face. It’s a dangerous game, the careful way she makes sure her eyelashes are fanned out and her hair is curly but not frizzy, but it’s one that she’s already signed up to play and there’s no backing out now. 

Not after that text she woke up to. 

_ I really loved talking to you :) will you be there tomorrow? _

It’s nothing, she knows that. It’s completely innocent and there’s no reason to read into that, Christen  _ knows that _ . But knowing that doesn’t stop her from being an anxious mess all day, barely able to eat more than an apple and a granola bar. It doesn’t stop her from going too hard on the elliptical at the gym, or from making sure that her hair looks almost exactly the way it did the last time Tobin told her she liked it best when curly. It’s silly, she knows that, but she goes ahead anyway and tries not to read into it too much when Tobin doesn’t reply to the text she sends around noon. 

_ Yes! Looking forward to seeing you again :) _

Christen tells herself that it’s got nothing to do with her, that Tobin is more than likely just busy preparing for the big game, but there’s nothing she can tell herself to stop the way her stomach rolls until she finally arrives at the field. 

The Bruins win, 3-0. It’s chaos, the way the girls throw themselves at each other before hugging the coaching team ferociously. There’s a ceremony and eventually, later on when the sun is setting and Christen’s face hurts from smiling so hard, Kelley motions to Christen as she finally heads off the field towards the locker room. Now, she’s just waiting to be let in, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet as she checks her phone despite the fact that nothing has come through since the game ended. 

When Kelley throws open the door, she’s barefoot and a glorious mess, deliriously happy and already drunk on winning.

“Christen!” she exclaims loudly, nearly tripping over her own feet to get to her. “We won!” 

“I know!” Christen says excitedly. “I’m so proud of you, Kell!”

They hug each other tightly until a loud cheer from inside breaks them apart.

“Come on,” Kelley says, pulling Christen into the building. “We’re celebrating!”

Christen follows close behind and smiles when she sees everyone whooping it up. Some of the girls who were at the bar the night before wave at her and it’s reassuring, giving her the boost of confidence she needs when Kelley turns to her and speaks. 

“So I know you’ll probably say no, but just hear me out,” she pleads. 

“Okay,” Christen says amusedly. “What’s up?”

“We’re all going to my place,” Kelley says. “I don’t want to keep the younger girls from celebrating, and this way even the little ones can have some champagne, and some of them might stay over if they don’t Uber back to campus. Will you please come?”

“Yeah,” Christen says, and it must be too quick because Kelley raises an eyebrow at her. “I mean, I’ve been to yours before and I know some of the girls from yesterday. I just won’t drink too much, that way I can drive home before it gets too late.”

“Perfect,” Kelley says, already letting one of her players tear her away. “We’ll leave soon!”

Christen wants to catch a glimpse of Tobin but she doesn’t get one until she’s already at Kelley’s, parking in front of her building and making her way up to the third floor apartment. Pushing down her nerves isn’t easy but she’s done it enough in the last couple months that it’s almost second nature at this point, and she lets herself through the door behind which music is thumping lowly. She’s never spent a ton of time at Kelley’s, preferring to hang out at her place instead, but she’s familiar enough that she doesn’t have a problem ducking into the front closet to stash her purse and shoes - everyone else is already barefoot, sandals piled around the front door. 

The apartment isn’t huge, but Kelley does have a sizeable bedroom and a den with a futon that she’ll let anyone crash on. There’s a balcony off the living room and some of the girls are out there with their drinks while another group attempts to set up a game of beer pong on Kelley’s Ikea breakfast table. It’s still early and not everyone is there which is nice because it gives Christen the opportunity to take stock of the drinks available and mix something she knows she’ll enjoy. 

Only one drink, maybe two, depending on how long she stays. That’s what she tells herself, helping herself to a plastic cup and ice. There’s a bottle of vodka and one of cranberry juice and she laughs to herself at the simplicity of it, the way the first sip takes her back to her college years when she’d been forced to hold onto a cup during parties despite the fact that she was still developing a taste for alcohol. By the time she’s fixed her drink, the apartment looks like it might be nearing capacity, which isn’t necessarily saying much, but it does mean that Tobin and Kelley should both be there.

Sonnett is darting around the table, arms full of beer cans and a stack of cups tucked under her front teeth, and Christen almost rolls her eyes at how much it reminds her of a college aged Kelley. Rose is attempting to shout out instructions but her voice makes it hard to hear her over the music, and Christen grins in sympathy as she leans across the counter and surveys the room, keeping an eye out for anyone close to her age. 

“Christen, right?”

The voice is deep and grabs Christen’s attention. It belongs to a tall girl with blonde hair and dark eyebrows, one that she doesn’t exactly remember from the previous night. It makes her wonder how the girl knows her name, and she dips her head in acknowledgment. 

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Christen asks curiously.

“Tobin,” she says simply. “I’m Lindsey.”

It makes a bit more sense then, with Christen remembering Rose talking about Lindsey being at the bar with Tobin. She gets the impression that they’re close, but tries to keep her expression from giving anything away. 

“I thought Kelley was the one introducing me,” Christen says, watching as Lindsey gets her own cup and ice.

“She probably is,” Lindsey says with a shrug. “Tobin probably just got to me first. I don’t mean this in a bad way, but we all kind of notice when there’s someone new here.”

“No, I get that,” Christen says slowly. “I know how close-knit you guys can be.”

“I’m just a little surprised that you haven’t been around before, if you know them both,” Lindsey explains as she fills her cup up with way too much rum and too little Diet Coke. 

“Oh, I usually didn’t make it into the locker room,” Christen says. “I came to more games a couple years ago, but mostly stuck to the stands.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Lindsey says, smiling at her. “If you feel like hanging out with people who aren’t your own age, I’m probably going to join Sam and start heckling Sonny and Rose.”

“Is Sonnett as bad at beer pong as she is at pool?” Christen wonders aloud.

“Worse,” Lindsey confirms Christen’s suspicion as they walk out from behind the kitchen counter. “You saw her last night? I wasn’t watching - I can’t stand to watch her lose all the time - but she told me all about it.”

“You’d think a soccer player would be a little more coordinated,” Christen says as Lindsey joins a girl with long hair and another who is almost as tall as Sam, which is saying something. 

“Not with her hands, apparently,” Lindsey says. “Andi, Tierna, this is Christen. She knows Kelley and Tobin.”

They exchange greetings and then Sam comes over from the balcony as the girls take their spots at the table. It’s barely long enough to serve the desired purpose, but Christen gets the impression that no one else is that concerned about it. 

“Hi,” Sam says, waving at Christen. “I’m Sam, I met you last night.”

“I know,” Christen says with a smile. “I’m pretty good with names.” 

She tries to relax amongst a small crowd of girls who are several years younger than herself. It’s easy so hang back and let them all bicker with each other, and she finds herself downing her drink faster than expected. It hasn’t gone to her head yet; it’s just letting her loosen up enough to joke with Lindsey and Sam about how Mal’s aim is almost as poor as Sonnett’s. 

“Are you trying to hit Abby’s boobs?” Lindsey hollers at her, and Sonnett flips her a middle finger without looking away from the game. 

“Yeah, Sonny,” Mal adds to the teasing. “Are you trying to let us win?”

Abby is the best of the four without a doubt, and she sinks a ball that forces Rose to drink. 

“I drank last time,” Sonnett persuades her, refusing to take the cup. 

“You’re the one who sucks at this game!” Rose exclaims. 

“What, like you’re doing any better?”

Rose screws up her face in displeasure as she drains the cup. Once it’s empty, she throws it at her partner, but it lacks the potential to do any damage and Sonnett just ends up throwing it at Lindsey who’s busy laughing so hard that Christen is almost concerned. 

“Like you’d do any better!” Sonnett complains. 

“O’Hara isn’t here to save you now,” Sam taunts, already armed with a fresh drink. Christen has no idea when she refilled her cup, but she’s thinking about heading to the kitchen for some more vodka and cranberry. A glance towards the kitchen tells her that it’s where a few of the younger girls have congregated - she knows Kelley mentioned letting them have a glass of champagne, but they seem to be drinking something alcoholic that definitely isn’t from a bottle of bubbly - but behind them all, tucked away in the corner next to the sink, are Tobin and Kelley. She feels a pang of annoyance at the fact that they’ve apparently been hanging out without her, but tries not to let it stick. At least she isn’t having a terrible time with the older players, she thinks. 

“I’ll be back,” Christen says, not sure if anyone is listening, but both Andi and Tierna nod at her and she feels a little better at having been acknowledged. 

She’s not sure whether she wants to beeline to Kelley and Tobin, and instead tries to survey the drinks station as best as she can with the gaggle of girls blocking most of her view. 

“Kell,” she says after a moment, refusing to look in her direction, “you mentioned champagne.”

“It’s chilling,” Kelley says, pushing off the counter to come over to Christen. “Can you put champagne in the freezer? Or does it do the soda thing and explode?”

“I think it’s okay as long as you don’t leave it in there for too long,” Christen says. “You didn’t want to look it up?”

“Nah, too lazy,” Kelley says, and Christen looks over to see a surprisingly lucid expression on her face. 

“Are you not drinking?” Christen asks outright, ignoring Tobin as she moves from her spot and comes closer. “I thought for sure you’d be at the beer pong table.”

“They do this every time they come over,” Kelley says, rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them it’s not regulation sized and it’s a waste of time. They just end up drinking way too much beer way too fast.”

“They’re college kids,” Tobin offers, and Christen isn’t sure if she’s okay with her joining in on the conversation or not. As nice as it was to talk the previous night, the near radio silence all day from her has made Christen more than a little apprehensive. “They’ll do whatever it takes to play a game of beer pong. Don’t you remember being a senior?”

Christen doesn’t know if Tobin is directing the question at her or Kelley, or if it’s merely rhetorical, but either way she doesn’t answer. 

“Yeah, and I don’t think my assistant coaches were nearly this nice,” Kelley says, watching the girls play. “They definitely didn’t buy me any booze.”

“Why don’t you make me a drink?” Christen suggests, pushing her cup into Kelley’s empty hand. “You were always better at mixing my drinks back in college.”

“Just like old times, huh?” Kelley asks, her smile looking a little wider. 

“Yeah,” Christen says, grinning back. “And then make yourself one, and we can play when this game ends.”

Kelley pretends to have been shot, staggering backwards as far as the small kitchen will let her. 

“You?” she asks in shock, pointing at Christen. “You want to play beer pong?”

“I mean, I’m probably no better than I was almost ten years ago,” she says with a shrug. “But I’m willing to give it a shot, and I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be drunker than you are right now.”

Kelley stands on her tiptoes to watch the game in progress, and while Christen doesn’t fully understand her apprehension, part of her thinks that it might have something to do with one of the players. She doesn’t want to think about that, not about the implications there, but she lets it slide from her brain for the time being and instead focuses on making sure her best friend has a good time at the party she’s hosting. After all, it’s the least she can do for her after being made to feel so welcome amid strangers.

“Yeah, okay,” she relents. “Who’s going to play against us? I doubt Abby’s going to carry Mal on her back for another round.”

“I’ll play,” Tobin offers, and Christen would be lying if she said that she forgot she was standing there. 

“You and Linds?” Kelley asks as she begins fixing Christen another drink. 

“Let me go ask her,” Tobin says with a grin, and it leaves Kelley and Christen alone in the kitchen. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you two?” Kelley asks, carefully pouring vodka. 

“I would, if there was anything to tell,” Christen says, eyes on the liquor bottle. “I mean, did you think we’d suddenly be best friends? Have lots to talk about with each other?”

“Kind of, yeah,” Kelley says. “With the way you guys left things, I sort of thought you’d have at least something to say.”

“And what would you know about the way we left things?” Christen asks, trying to sound amused but feeling curious; she’s always wondering if Tobin talks about her, and what she says if she does. 

“The two of you were heartbroken,” Kelley says, as though it’s obvious. She pours club soda into their cups, and Christen hands her the little bowl of lime wedges.

“I mean, I know I was,” Christen says. She doesn’t know much about what Tobin was going through after it all - all she knows is the part she played in the two of them going their separate ways, and she’s not full of herself enough to assume that she’d broken Tobin’s heart the way her own had been. 

“You two have the worst communication skills I’ve ever seen,” Kelley tells her, shoving Christen’s plastic cup back in her hands. “Come on, let’s do this thing.”

*

It’s getting late - past midnight. Christen doesn’t know why she thought singing old Britney Spears songs using a bottle of vodka as a microphone would be a good idea, but it’s a testament to how much alcohol she’s consumed that she doesn’t feel too much pain when attempting to pull off an impressive dance move that ends with her knocking her shin into Kelley’s coffee table. Of course she has the worst luck in the world, she thinks, as she stops singing and looks down uncertainly, wondering if there will be a bruise. 

“Oh, shit.”

It’s Lindsey who says it, staring at Christen’s leg with a hand hovering over her gaping mouth. She’d been singing into a bottle of rum along with Christen, once someone had cued up a throwback playlist, and she’d been the one who thrust the vodka at Christen’s chest and demand she not be forced to sing alone. It was the least she could do, Lindsey said, after absolutely crushing her and Tobin at beer pong. 

That had been mostly thanks to Kelley and her ability to retain her impressive hand-eye coordination even when impaired, but Christen had just been thankful that she hadn’t had to drink very much beer. 

It had been enough though, enough to make her think she could dance in the middle of Kelley’s living room and give herself a bloody knee. 

Except it isn’t quite her knee, Christen realizes as she leans down to get a better look at the damage she’s done. It’s her shin and the blood isn’t flowing freely down the front of her leg, but instead hampered by the Spider-man bandaid she has slapped on over the old shaving wound she’d given herself nearly a month prior.

“Oh, shit.”

This time it is Christen who speaks, dropping the vodka bottle on the area rug. Someone has turned down the music and Sam is panicking, something about blood and a mess and Christen thinks that she can’t just leave it like this It takes a moment for the pieces to fall into place, but then she’s straightening up and looking around. 

“Bathroom,” she says, as firmly as she can. “Kelley. Bathroom.”

Kelley is snickering from her perch on the arm of the couch. 

“Christen, you’re drunk,” she tells her. 

Christen pouts. She doesn’t necessarily feel drunk - just relaxed and maybe like she’s a little off balance, but nothing that would indicate intoxication. 

Oh, wait. 

Yeah, Christen might be a little drunk, she thinks as she stands there and stares blankly ahead of her. It only takes a single step for her to sway to the side, and thankfully Lindsey is there to steady her and keep her from falling to the floor and getting blood all over Kelley’s rug.

“Thanks,” she tells Lindsey. “I think I need some water.”

“No, you need to clean up your leg,” Lindsey says, far too wise for so far into the party. There’s already been a handful of champagne toasts and the players have run through a few drinking games, none of which Christen chose to partake in as she was too busy listening to Moe go on and on about wanting to break up with her college boyfriend. Surely Lindsey isn’t less drunk than Christen, so she takes pity on her and explains it as slow as she can. 

“Not to drink,” she stresses. “To clean my leg.”

Lindsey’s eyes go wide. 

“Oh!” she says, the word dragging out. “Yes, okay. That’s such a good idea. How did you come up with such a good idea?”

“I think I might know what I’m doing,” Christen says seriously. Lindsey is still holding her by her elbow, and it’s nice to have someone supporting her. “Kelley thinks I’m drunk but she doesn't know how smart I am.”

“I’ll tell her,” Lindsey reassures her. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she knows.”

“You’re so great,” Christen says fondly, raising a hand to pat Lindsey’s cheek. “I like you.”

The two of them grin wildly at each other before Christen feels someone else trying to come between them. 

“Chris.”

Of course it’s Tobin - dumb Tobin who’s been calm and cool and quiet most of the night, hanging out with those who haven’t been drinking very much. The only exception was the single game of beer pong, but it’s been a while since then and Christen long ago drank enough to stop letting her presence affect her so much. She’s fed up with Tobin, with the girl she’s pretty sure has her heart but doesn’t give a damn about it. It feels mean, but Christen pouts and thinks that she’d rather have anyone else next to her. 

“Chris, let me help you clean that up.”

Tobin’s voice is collected and low, too reasonable for Christen’s liking. It just isn’t fair, she thinks, how Tobin’s been nearly ignoring her for most of the night while looking unfairly attractive in her same leather jacket from the night before. Her hair was down before but now it’s up in that stupid half-bun thing Christen used to love, but at the moment it’s making her frown. 

“I want Lindsey,” Christen says. 

“I’m not a doctor,” Lindsey says, relinquishing her grip to hold her hands up in defense. “I don’t know what to do! What if you end with a scar?”

“It’s probably going to scar,” Christen says, and she’s swaying on the spot while trying to get a good look at her leg but the bandaid is in the way and she’s worried that she’ll fall if she tries to peel it off right now. 

“Chris,” Tobin repeats. 

“Don’t call me that,” she nearly snaps as Tobin goes to grab her arm She jerks away and stumbles before standing up as straight as she can. “You can get me a bandaid but that’s it.”

“At least come with me to the bathroom so you don’t bleed everywhere,” Tobin tries to rationalize and Christen hates that she’s right - she hates that following Tobin to the bathroom is the right thing to do. 

And Christen always tries to do the right thing. 

Almost always, at least.

She goes reluctantly while wishing that she could be going to Lindsey instead - Lindsey who is apparently close with Tobin even though Christen hasn’t really seen any evidence of that. It’s a short walk to the bathroom where Tobin leaves the door open just a crack and Christen sits on the edge of the bathtub in front of the shower curtain, clutching onto porcelain so she goes down with relatively ease. She’s drunk but not so much that she isn’t aware of her surroundings; if anything, she’s hyper aware of the way Tobin navigates Kelley’s medicine cabinet until she’s got a bottle of rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and a couple of bandaids. Something holds Christen where she is, eyes following Tobin throughout it all, not able to think about anything else.

When Tobin sits on the opposite end of the bathtub ledge, Christen can almost smell her - the crisp air that lingers in the strands of her hair, the leather that she takes care of more meticulously than Christen takes care of her split ends, and the faint smell of beer emanating from her mouth. It’s not enticing, not at all, but it somehow still makes Christen want to lean in for a deep inhale and she instead scoots back until she’s flush with the wall.

“Here, let me look at your leg,” Tobin says, motioning for Christen to swing it up between them. 

“I can do it,” Christen says quickly. 

“Probably,” Tobin says, dipping her head in a nod. “But you’ve had a lot to drink and I haven’t, so let me.”

“I still know what I’m doing,” Christen says stubbornly. “I get paid to do this kind of thing. Or have you forgotten?”

“No, I haven’t,” Tobin says. “Alright, here.”

She unscrews the rubbing alcohol and uses it to saturate a cotton ball before handing it to Christen. 

“Give me a dry one,” Christen says, moving her foot to press against the ledge so she can see what she’s doing. Tobin obliges, and a part of Christen feels a sense of satisfaction now that she’s ordering Tobin around. It gives her enough of an advantage in her mind that it makes her think they might be level, but there’s no guarantee how long that’s going to last. 

“No wonder it was bleeding so bad,” Tobin says, peering over as Christen carefully peels off the blood-soaked bandaid. “You already had a cut.”

“I cut myself shaving,” Christen says, disposing of poor bloody Spider-man. “It just won’t heal no matter what I do.”

“Well, maybe you should stop reinjuring it,” Tobin jokes. 

Christen almost wants to frown and be offended - it isn’t as though she’s been doing that on purpose - but her attention span isn’t normally what it is and she has to focus extra hard to line up the alcohol-soaked cotton ball with the wound. The rubbing alcohol drips down her leg, following the short but thick trail of blood. She hisses upon contact and wishes that maybe she’d drank enough to not feel how much this hurts, but it’s suddenly worth it for how Tobin leans closer with a concerned look etched on her face. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, brows furrowed. 

“It just burns,” Christen says, closing her eyes and thinking about anything but the momentary agony. 

“I can help,” Tobin offers. 

“I don’t need your help,” Christen says as calmly as she can, while her ears are full of Tobin’s soft voice and she’s trying to focus on breathing evenly through the pain. “Besides. It hurts less when I’m the one doing it. That way, I know what to expect.”

“Makes sense,” Tobin hums. 

“That’s why we can’t tickle ourselves,” Christen explains. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever tried to do that,” Tobin muses. 

Christen opens her eyes and her vision swims a bit. Her hands falter and she looks down at her shin, figuring that she’s held the cotton ball to it long enough for the blood to have come off for the most part. She switches between the wet and dry cotton until her leg is mostly clean, and throws them in the trash when she’s done. 

“Another dry one.”

Tobin puts one in her outstretched hand and Christen might be imagining it but it feels like Tobin never takes her eyes off Christen’s face. 

“How late are you staying?” Christen asks, rolling and squishing the ball into as small of a piece as she can. There’s no gauze to stem the slow bleeding with, so she’ll have to make do with the contents of Kelley’s poor imitation of a first aid kit. 

“Long enough to see which kids need help getting home,” Tobin says. “Kelley’s kind of taken the role of crazy parent, so I’m the responsible one tonight.”

“That could be a while,” Christen remarks. “Can I have a bandaid? I mean, you’ve seen Sammy. And Sonnett. Is she always like this? They’re definitely going to need help getting home.”

Tobin snickers, unwrapping a plain bandaid before handing it over. 

“Yeah, Sonnett is kind of always like this whether she’s drinking or not. It’s a special talent. And Sam and the older girls are probably going to end up staying the night here - it’s the younger ones I’m worried about. Kelley’s futon can only hold so many people.”

“You drew the short straw,” Christen says, centering the bandaid over the cotton before smoothing the sides down. “That doesn’t sound like the best time.

“I’m celebrating,” Tobin says, picking at her chapped bottom lip. “I can still have fun when I’m not drunk.”

“Nowhere else you’d rather be?” Christen asks, raising an eyebrow at Tobin as she finishes doctoring up her shin. She leaves her leg where it is though, a sort of barrier between the two of them. 

“Should I want to be somewhere else?” Tobin asks, sounding amused. 

Christen shrugs. 

“Just asking,” she says. “I know the team used to be your life, but I don’t know if anything has changed.”

“Nothing on that front,” Tobin says, setting the extra supplies on the floor and leaning back against the wall. “The team is still my life.”

“Some result to show for it,” Christen comments, leaning back as well. It’s strange, how five minutes ago she didn’t want Tobin to be anywhere near her, but now that they’re close she can’t imagine being forced to get up. The door might be open a touch, but suddenly the entire world shrinks down to the interior of Kelley O’Hara’s bathroom. 

“Yeah, they’re not too bad,” Tobin says, a grin tugging at her mouth. “Think I might be a bit sad to see some of them go - was kind of hoping we could do it again next year.”

“You’ll train the freshman up good next year,” Christen says, because if there’s anything she might be sure of, it’s Tobin’s soccer abilities and knowledge. “And even if you don’t win again, you’re still good at your job.”

“Yeah, but winning championships seems to be the only way I can get you to even come close to me,” Tobin says, and there’s something bold about it that has Christen’s ears perking up. 

“Yeah?” she asks, and it’s so easy that it’s laughable. “What do you care about that?”

Tobin licks her lips before answering. 

“You’re still an important part of my life,” Tobin reminds her, as if Christen doesn’t know that. Which truly, she doesn’t know for sure, but she’d like to hope. “That hasn’t changed. I don’t want it to change.”

Christen tilts her head to the side, her hair moving with the motion. She thinks she can see Tobin’s gaze follow the motion, follow her neck and her curls, and compounded with the vodka still pumping through her body, feels brave as she speaks again. 

“You know what else hasn’t changed?” she asks, not even waiting for Tobin to respond as her heart beats hard in her chest. “How attractive you are.”

Tobin never blushes, her complexion and typically cool demeanor hardly allowing for it, but the way she stares unblinkingly is indication enough that the words have affected her. 

“Am I?” she asks slowly, eyes locked somewhere around Christen’s left shoulder. 

“Yes,” Christen says. “I mean, you know I thought you were. Before. I just didn’t expect for you to still be as hot as you were the last time I got to see you.”

Tobin blinks once, twice, and then - 

“Chris,” she says, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. “You’re drunk.”

“So what, I can’t mean it?” Christen demands unflinchingly. 

“I don’t know if you mean it,” Tobin says. 

“I mean it,” she says instantly, because if there’s one thing she’s certain about, it’s that physically, Tobin ticks all of Christen’s boxes and then some. “I mean it, Tobin. You’re hot as hell to me. Always have been.”

The way Tobin suddenly rises makes bile do the same in Christen’s throat. 

“You’re drunk,” she says quietly. “Go drink some water. I’m going to get some of the girls home.”

She swiftly puts the supplies back in the medicine cabinet before leaving the room, and doesn’t look back once. Christen feels nauseous, but not like she’ll throw up - it’s the anxiety, back in full force with a heavy side of embarrassment. 

She wonders if she’ll be able to come back from this. 


	6. Best Mistake

There are several things Christen is grateful when she wakes up on Sunday morning. 

The first is that she’d had the foresight to take the day off of work. It would have been easy to figure that she’d go home after the game, or maybe have a single drink before leaving Kelley’s apartment. Now, with bleary eyes and the slightest headache, she is beyond thankful that she didn’t depend on her being on her best behavior. 

The second is that she’d been able to stay the night in Kelley’s bed. If she’d waited until she’d felt confident enough to drive safely, it would have been nearly daylight. She hadn’t been about to call an Uber or ask anyone for a ride - Tobin was the only sober one and she’d been busy cramming students in her car and driving them back to campus. Besides, after what had happened in the bathroom, she had only wanted to avoid Tobin more than before. 

The third is that she’d managed to sleep well into the morning, her Circadian clock taking pity on her and letting her sleep past ten. Even then, she’s one of the first ones up. Most of the older girls stayed the night, either on Kelley’s couch or her futon, and Christen tiptoes into the kitchen without flipping on a single light. There’s enough sunlight streaming through the spaces between the blinds to keep her from knocking into anything, and it’s easy to switch on Kelley’s coffee machine and get it going. 

The creaking of a door draws Christen’s attention, and she pauses in the middle of unlocking her phone to look up and see who it is.

“Oh, good,” Mal says, rubbing at her eyes. “Coffee.”

“Figured I might not be the only one wanting some,” Christen says with a shrug. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“Nah,” Mal says with a shake of her head, settling into a barstool at the counter. “Rose kicks in her sleep sometimes.”

“Get enough sleep?” Christen asks sympathetically. 

“I’ll probably nap later, when I get back to my place,” she says distractedly, going through her phone. Christen appreciates the quiet and lack of pressure to maintain conversation, going to her own phone as she initially meant to. 

There isn’t anything from Tobin, not that Christen expected there to be. It’s too early for her to be up on a weekend, and Christen’s fingers hover over their conversation while debating whether or not to send anything. It might make her look desperate, or pathetic, she thinks. 

Instead, she opts to scroll through social media while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. 

It doesn’t push Tobin from her mind though. Christen puts the phone down once she’s done with Instagram and taps her fingers on the counter, staring at the coffee maker as though it holds the answer to her dilemma. 

As the coffee slows down, Sonnett walks over from the living room with a yawn and her arms stretched high about her. 

“Morning,” she greets them. Christen has probably spent less time with her than any of the other girls, but she still smiles politely. 

“Coffee?” she offers. 

Sonnett nods, crossing the kitchen to retrieve mugs from a cabinet with practiced ease that makes Christen frown. 

“Get me milk,” Mal tells her, and Sonnett listens. It’s not long before the three of them are fully immersed in their coffee, Christen’s with a spoonful of sugar and Sonnett’s black. It’s quiet and a wonder that no one else has woken up, and Christen appreciates the time she has to stare at her phone without Kelley interrogating her about whatever could possibly be wrong. 

It’s not till she’s pulled up her message thread with Tobin again, watching the clock tick closer to ten thirty and wondering if she’ll ever get a text if she doesn’t send one first. Sure, Christen had been the one to text last and technically it’s Tobin’s turn, but she knows that if she waits for that to happen, she might be waiting forever. 

Tobin has never played by the rules, and it’s part of why she’s always been so dangerous. 

“You alright?”

It’s Mal, looking at Christen with minor concern. 

“Just tired,” Christen says with a small smile. 

“Tell me about it,” she groans. “I don’t think Abby and Sam stopped giggling until four.”

“At least you weren’t out here with Lindsey,” Sonnett says. “She wouldn’t stop drunk texting her ex, asking me what she should say.”

“Oh, are they not together again?” Mal asks. “I wondered what the status update was this week.”

“She broke up with him because he wasn’t taking her soccer career seriously enough,” Sonnett says with an eye roll. “I don’t even think Lindsey is taking her soccer career seriously.”

“She’s signing up for the league draft,” Mal points out, and while the words register in Christen’s ears, she’s too busy staring at her phone screen to understand them. It’s not until a minute later that something catches her attention, ears suddenly on high alert. 

“Is it too much to ask Tobin to put in a good word for me?” Mal is joking. 

“I think she’s too busy doing that for Linds,” Sonnett tells her. 

“Do you not want the national team to take a look at you?” Mal asks. 

“I mean, I don’t even know if I’m signing up for the draft,” Sonnett says. “Kelley mentioned something about Jill retiring soon, so I might look into coaching. How cool would it be to do what they do?”

Mal snorts. “You can’t stalk her forever, you know.”

“It’s not stalking when she wants me around,” Sonnett says confidently. “Besides, I want to be realistic. You know how hard it is to break onto the national team?”

“Tobin makes it sound easy,” Mal muses. It makes Christen’s head snap up to look at her. 

“That’s because it was easy for her,” Christen points out. “But no one was as good as her.”

Mal and Sonnett look at her curiously. 

“How well do you know her?” Sonnett asks. 

“Um,” Christen hedges, not wanting to give too much away. “I used to know her pretty decently.”

“Oh, through Kelley?” Mal asks, putting the pieces together fairly quickly. 

“Yeah,” Christen says with a nod. “Yeah, we’re not close anymore but we were for a while.”

“Wait, so she talked to you about her time on the team?” Mal asks. “She like, never mentions it.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Sonnett agrees. “We try all the time but it’s like a bad experience for her or something.”

“Tobin tries pretty hard not to live in the past,” Christen says, because that’s one thing she does know. “She’s not going to want to rehash everything.”

Their faces fall. 

“Is she really that good?” Sonnett asks. “You said, no one is as good as her.”

“Was as good,” Christen corrects. “I don’t know, I met her when she started here. After the Olympics.”

It comes back to her with startling clarity - the way Tobin had shown up at UCLA after the national team’s defeat in Rio, the way Tobin had been down on her luck in a difficult time, the way Christen had reached a hand out and single handedly helped her up. Maybe it was the circumstances that let them be vulnerable enough to grow so close to each other so fast, but with some distance from that time, she knows how codependent it was. She knows she had been Tobin’s coping mechanism, a way for her to avoid dealing with the major changes that life had thrown her way. 

“Christen,” Mal says, reaching out a hand, fingertips touching Christen’s knuckles. She’s gripping her mug way too tight, and Mal’s touch makes her release. 

“Yeah?” she asks. Her voice comes out scratchy and thick, and she clears her throat, hard. 

“You okay?”

The two of them are looking at her inquisitively and Christen clears her throat again, shaking her head and trying to shove down all the emotions threatening to burst out of her. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she says with the best smile she can manage. “Just weird to think about that time again.”

Weird is an understatement, Christen thinks, as her phone lights up with a simple message. 

_ Good morning :) _

*

Christen isn’t sure how she manages it. It seems a bit surreal, and as she waits near the front of the park with the dogs’ leashes wrapped around her hands, it’s tough to resist the urge to pull out her phone and stare at the words on the screen. She needs to stop obsessing over it, though. She knows that much. 

It had started with that simple message, and Christen had snatched up her phone to respond as fast as she could before Tobin changed her mind and regretted reaching out. It had only taken a split-second to make the decision to give into her emotions and do her best to fix whatever she might have messed up by drunkenly telling Tobin how she felt. Despite only being a fraction of her feelings, it had at least been true. 

So Christen had persisted, not afraid to double-text and engaging Tobin as much as she could. She’d gotten a taste of what it was like to be next to Tobin after their time apart, and it was almost as though nothing had changed. It had been just as electric and magnetizing as before, and she’d be damned if she gave that up without a fight. After a couple of days that Christen had spent at work and Tobin spent trying to entertain herself now that the season was over, she’d suggested something to entertain the both of them on her day off. 

Which is how she finds herself bundled up in a coat and boots, wishing she’d brought gloves because the sudden cold front is biting and veering towards miserable. Instead, she focuses on keeping an eye out for Tobin. It isn’t hard though, because suddenly - 

“Puppies!”

Tobin wastes no time in gleefully beelining for Khaleesi and Morena, falling to her knees despite the fact that the grass is cold and her knees are exposed through the rips in her jeans. The dogs greet her eagerly, and Christen is almost jealous of the way one of them licks frantically at Tobin’s face. 

“No, Khaleesi - I’m sorry, she’s just too friendly, sometimes it’s a serious problem,” Christen rambles, staring at the burgundy of Tobin’s knit beanie. It takes a moment before she finally looks up, a happy close-mouthed smile on her face as she scratches the dogs behind their ears. 

“I don’t mind, you know I love these girls,” Tobin assures her. 

“You’ve only met them once or twice,” Christen says. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t love them,” Tobin says, sweetly nuzzing into Morena’s snout. “She’s so calm.”

“She’s a little older,” Christen says. “A little more patient.”

“They’re both good,” Tobin says, and she presses a single kiss to each of their faces before getting up with an ease that Christen wonders at. “How are you? How’s work?”

“Good, it could be worse,” Christen says, feeling thankful that both hands are holding onto the dogs so she doesn’t have to awkwardly figure out what to do with them. “But you don’t want to hear about all the gross things that happen at the hospital.”

Tobin shudders. 

“God, no, I’m sorry,” she says with a laugh. “I respect what you do but I do not want to hear what you get up to on the clock.”

“Fair enough,” Christen says with a grin. “You’re not the only person I know who feels that way.”

“Do you want me to take one of the girls?” Tobin asks, gesturing to the leashes. “That way we can walk a bit.”

“Um,” Christen hedges, looking at Tobin’s hands. “No offense, but do you know how to walk a dog?”

“I know things,” Tobin says cheekily. “Here, let me take the calm one. Morena?”

“How’d you know?” Christen asks, untangling her lead from around her wrist. 

“I saw their tags earlier,” Tobin admits, grinning widely. 

Christen is finding it hard not to let the feelings of love and affection come rushing back as Tobin takes the leash and listens intently as Christen tells her how to hold and manage her. It’s so strange to watch Tobin interacting with them on this level, as opposed to just crossing paths with them as she had before. Part of her heart aches as she watches Tobin stand up straight (as straight as she ever does, anyway) and wait for Christen’s go-ahead. She wants this, she realizes. She wants Tobin and the dogs and regular trips to the park with her little family. 

She’s getting ahead of herself. Christen shakes her head and reminds herself that nothing is established here and just a few days ago her emotions were still swinging all over the place. Besides, planning ahead is what got her hurt in the first place; planning ahead and then being forced to realize that none of it was going to happen. 

“Let’s just follow the trail,” Christen says, pointing to the path they’ve been standing on the edge of. I’d say we can turn around if you get tired, but I have a feeling that won’t happen.”

“I should probably be saying that to you,” Tobin teases, and it makes Christen’s cheeks grow warm. 

“I keep in decent shape,” she defends as they begin walking. “We can’t all get paid to play sports for a living.”

“Technically, I get paid to yell at other girls to play sports,” Tobin corrects. 

“Right, that’s why you and Kelley are always joining in for conditioning.”

“I figure it’s unfair to make them suffer alone,” Tobin said wisely. “If we can’t handle it, we can’t expect them to.”

“So then what’s the excuse for joining in on their scrimmages?” Christen asks with a raised eyebrow. “Or do you not do that anymore?”

“Nah, I still do it. Rose says it helps keep her game sharp,” Tobin says rather modestly. “You should have seen the way she nutmegged a Stanford defender earlier in the season. Even Kelley was impressed.”

Christen thinks that Tobin deserves to be proud of herself for passing these tricks and skills down to the next generation of soccer players, but it’s just like the Tobin she once knew to only barely take credit for something wonderful. She’d never wanted her name everywhere, never wanted to be recognized, only wanted to play the game and play it well. Christen’s only ever seen Tobin play in games on her laptop screen - back when they were first introduced and she was trying to figure out what the big fuss was all about - but she’d been more than impressed by the numerous highlight reels floating out there on the internet. 

Those clips had all been from before everything got derailed, though. 

“I thought Kelley was over Stanford,” Christen says after a moment to process and shake the overly emotional thoughts from her head. 

“Nah, she still flirts with the Cardinals occasionally,” Tobin jokes. “I see her crushing at games.”

“That would explain why she was wearing my old college gear while at my place the other night,” Christen says. 

“She’s cheating on our team,” Tobin says dramatically, holding her free hand to her chest as though she’s been wounded. “How will I ever break the news to the girls? They’ll be heartbroken.”

“She swears it was just physical,” Christen plays along, but something in her words makes Tobin’s bright expression falter and it’s like the light suddenly goes out of the conversation. 

“I’m glad you two are still close,” Tobin says, eyes focused on the walking trail straight ahead. 

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know,” Tobin says, seeming weirdly self conscious of what she says. “For a while back then it seemed like you two kind of fell out.”

“We try not to dwell on that,” Christen says truthfully. “She’s been a really solid friend to me, and I really appreciate that.”

Tobin scratches at the back of her neck. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been a solid friend.”

The statement shocks Christen for a few reasons. 

The first being that she had no idea Tobin felt that way: Tobin had never given her any inkling that she wanted to be friends, much less good ones. 

The second being that she had no idea Tobin was sorry about anything. There had been plenty of apologies coming from Christen’s end as things had ended, but Tobin had always maintained that Christen was the one that had stricken the final match that blew up what they had into irreversible flames. 

The third being that she too is sorry - sorry that they’d effectively cut each other out of each other’s lives despite the good they had brought and fostered between them. Maybe Tobin hasn’t been a very good friend, but neither has Christen. 

“It’s okay,” Christen says as gently as she can. “I wasn’t too great of a friend either.”

Tobin doesn’t respond, staying quiet as they walk at a steady pace. The trail is shaded and it makes everything a little bit colder, and Christen again wishes she had a pair of gloves because her hands are shaking and she’s convinced that nerves have nothing to do with it. A sideways glance at Tobin, wrapped up in thick black athletic leggings and a matching parka, makes it hard to keep from blurting out how she feels. There’s so much inside of Christen, so many thoughts and words bouncing around in her head, and the only thing stopping her is the absence of knowledge on how Tobin feels.

That, and the fear of looking like a fool. But to be honest, what does Christen have to lose?

She thinks of the girl from Instagram and how Tobin’s phone hasn’t made an appearance since she arrived. She remembers how Tobin had been glued to her phone when the two of them first met, and decides that regardless of what is going on in Tobin’s personal life, she can’t ignore how she feels - not after three days of texting back and forth with a familiar sort of regularity that has been reinforcing the wild idea that maybe Christen’s feelings aren’t completely crazy and unfounded. 

“I’ve missed you.”

Christen says it quick and soft, looking down at her feet to make sure she doesn’t trip. A long beat of silence passes, and then - 

“I’ve missed you too.”

It’s casual, in that special Tobin way where it could mean nothing or everything and Christen will never be able to tell. She doesn’t get how Tobin does it, manage to make it seem like she’s giving everything and laying all her cards on the table while sitting on a hand that’s entirely hidden. The words are full of just the right amount of honesty that makes Christen believe her, but there’s no context and instead of feeling better, she instead feels a little emptier. 

A little more hopeless. 

She doesn’t understand why this is so hard. Once upon a time the two of them had been so in sync and now she’s struggling to get them on the same page. In fact, it almost feels like Tobin doesn’t want them to be. 

Christen shakes her head, shaking the thoughts out so she can leave them behind on the trail. They won’t do her any good, she knows. 

One more shot, she tells herself. One more shot for today, one more attempt at trying to figure out where Tobin’s head is. She doesn’t want to push too hard because she knows what happens when she does, and it isn’t pretty.

“It’s really good to see you again,” Christen says, choosing her words carefully. “Like...I’ve genuinely missed spending time with you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Chris,” Tobin says, and Christen’s heart can’t help but drop as she registers the slightly confused tone of Tobin’s voice. “You know, you’ve always been important to me.”

It’s frustrating, the way the words still echo emptily around Christen’s brain. They’re not better than anything that’s already been said, and Christen wonders if maybe she’s played it too safe. She can’t tell the truth, though - that would ruin everything. Even though she’s got nothing to lose, she still isn’t ready for that. She doesn’t want to say anything more, instead falling silent and letting Tobin choose when to speak next. It takes a few minutes that seem to drag on forever, filled by Christen becoming acutely aware of how Tobin’s left hand is holding Morena’s leash while she holds Khaleesi’s in her right. 

If Tobin wanted, they could hold hands while they walked. 

But Tobin doesn’t want that. And regardless, Christen’s fingers are nearly frozen as they dangle by her side. Tobin wouldn’t want that, no matter how much Christen wants it. She thinks that maybe it’s presumptuous to assume what Tobin would or wouldn’t want, but Christen knows how this goes. She knows that if Tobin wanted something, she’d make it known. 

“Are you warm enough?” Tobin asks eventually. 

Christen tugs at her collar, pulling it up to shield her against the windchill. 

“I’m alright,” she says. “I mean, you know me. I’m a California girl.”

“Do I need to sing the song?” Tobin jokes. 

“Please don’t,” Christen says, trying to smile in return. She’s sure it comes out weak and small, but Tobin doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Why? I’m a great singer, you know.”

“I doubt that,” Christen says, trying to remember if she’s ever heard Tobin sing before. After a couple of moments when she can’t decide if she has or hasn’t, she bites her lip and nearly misses what Tobin says next.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you a great singer?” Tobin says with her characteristic wide smile as she slyly looks over at Christen. 

“Shouldn’t you know that?” Christen says, and she tries to make it come out lighthearted but it doesn’t work. Tobin’s face falls at the slightly cutting edge to her tone, and Christen winces. “I mean, have you really never heard me sing before?”

“Are you secretly a shower singer?” Tobin guesses. 

“No way,” Christen says, shaking her head. 

“Do you sing in the car?” Tobin tries again. 

It’s strange, figuring out what they do and don’t know about each other. Something about it makes Christen feel a little better - a little more wicked, bolder, braver. 

“No, but in college you could serve me a few tequila shots and I’d do a bit of karaoke,” Christen says with a grin. 

“How did I not know that?” Tobin marvels. “Seriously, how did you or Kelley never mention that?”

“Kelley was my best friend in college, but she wasn’t my only friend,” Christen reminds her. “When she was practicing most evenings, I was studying with my nursing friends. And let me tell you, those girls know how to have a good time.”

“I’m fascinated,” Tobin says, and Christen can see that for the most part, she means it. 

“I had one friend, and she always pulled me on stage,” Christen says, enjoying the look on Tobin’s face too much to hold back. She’ll do whatever it takes to get Tobin to look at her that way. “You’ll never guess which song we always used to do together.”

“God, I’ll never be able to guess,” Tobin laughs. “Okay, give me a clue at least.”

“Okay,” Christen says with a laugh. “It might have been a duet.”

“That just makes it harder!” Tobin protests through what sounds very nearly like a giggle. “None of the popular ones are duets!”

“That’s your clue,” Christen says. It’s almost miraculous, how fast Tobin can make her moods swing around and do a one-eighty. “I’m not giving you another one.”

“Okay, fuck,” Tobin says, not even shivering as a sharp gust of wind blows past them. “Fuck, why is LA so cold in December?”

“You’re not getting out of this,” Christen says pointedly. “Especially not by talking about the weather.”

“Fine, okay,” Tobin says with a hint of a pout. “Before the clue, I was going to say ‘Baby Got Back…’”

Christen groans but it’s good-natured as Tobin laughs at herself. 

“Alright, alright. Drunk In Love?”

“No way,” Christen says. “I’m not near that talented.”

“You’ve got to tell me,” Tobin begs with wide eyes. “Come on, not knowing is killing me.”

It’s Christen’s turn to giggle. 

“Okay, but only because I don’t want to kill you.”

“Thank God,” Tobin exhales. “I really don’t want to die without knowing which song the great and talented Christen Press used to sing on college karaoke nights.”

Christen scratches her cheek in an attempt to cover up what feels like a prominent blush.

“Summer Nights,” she admits.

Tobin stops dead in the middle of the trail. 

“From ‘Grease?’” she asks incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Christen says, suddenly concerned that she’s given a bad answer. “Why, you don’t like it?”

“I need to see it,” Tobin says, and the smile she gives immediately quiets Christen’s anxiety. “Like, I really need to see it.”

“No,” Christen says immediately. “No way.”

“Why not?” Tobin presses. “Come on, I won’t judge you for having lost your touch.”

“Okay, let’s get this straight,” Christen says, fingers tightening on Khaleesi’s leash. “I might be a little rusty, but I haven’t lost my touch.”

“I’m planning a karaoke night,” Tobin says. “I’m texting Kelley right now, and we’re having a karaoke night.”

“Right,” Christen says, feeling nervous at the thought of actually getting up in front of people and singing for the first time since she graduated. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’m a woman of my word,” Tobin says with a sparkle in her eye. “Trust me.”

Christen isn’t sure how much she actually trusts Tobin, but she is sure of how much she wants to. 

And that’s quite a lot.

*

When they’re tucked away in the warmth of Christen’s apartment, Kelley shoots out a hand to stop Christen in the middle of getting comfortable in the corner of the couch. 

“Kell,” Christen says impatiently, hands balancing a glass of water and a bowl of microwave popcorn. “Kind of in the middle of something.”

“Did your thing finally heal?” Kelley asks, fingers brushing over the shiny red splotch on her shin. The scab had fallen off the day before, leaving behind fresh scar tissue. It’s not pretty and she’s sure it will take ages to heal, but at least it never wound up infected. 

“My thing?” Christen asks, rolling her eyes as Kelley removes her hand and backs up into her own space. “You make it sound like an extra nipple or something.”

“Why are we always talking about nipples?” Kelley asks rhetorically. “No but seriously, you cracked that thing open hard. I genuinely thought you’d left blood behind on my coffee table.”

Christen sets her refreshments down on her own coffee table before pulling a blanket over her lap. It’s the week before Christmas and while not exactly in the midst of another cold spell, it isn’t exactly warm outside. Kelley staunchly refuses to allow Christen to run the heat when she comes over, so Christen layers up and complains as much as she can before it drives Kelley crazy. 

“I’m mostly impressed that I managed to patch it back up while drunk,” Christen says, watching Kelley help herself to the remote and start navigating the Netflix page. 

“I thought Tobin did that?”

“I wouldn’t let her,” Christen says, the memory hitting her funny. It had been weird but good, she supposes, if the aftermath is anything to go by. Judging by the fact that they’ve been texting fairly often since the trip to the park together, and they’ve got plans to hang out on the twenty-first, the awkwardness may have been worth it. “I’m kind of actually qualified to give wound care, in case you didn’t know.”

It’s Kelley’s turn to roll her eyes as she lands on a random scary movie. 

“This one is new,” Kelley says, already selecting it. “I heard it’s super thrilling - you okay with it?”

“Yeah, but we’re leaving the kitchen light on,” Christen says. She isn’t one for scary movies, but Tobin is due to be done with her workout any minute now and Christen is just waiting for a return text. 

She gets one at almost the exact time Tobin had told her she’d be done, and Christen smiles into her mouthful of popcorn as she reads the message. 

_ I’m so sweaty I think I died _

Her fingers waste no time in crafting a reply. 

_ Please don’t die! Then I’ll have no one to save me from this movie Kelley is forcing me to watch! _

_ Is it that new Netflix one? She tried to get me to watch but I’m not that easy _

Tobin’s texts come steady, never far apart, and part of Christen knows that she must be texting while driving in order to maintain it, but she’s selfish and trusts the bumper-to-bumper nature of traffic in the city to keep Tobin from going fast enough to do something stupid. 

_ Still hate scary movies? _

_ You know I do. How’d she convince you? _

_ I was kind of counting on you to distract me lol _

_ Does she not care lol?  _

_ Even if she does she can’t complain. I’m driving her to the airport early in the morning, she owes me. _

_ You’re driving her and still let her pick the movie?? Man you really had some faith in me _

_ Should I not have? _

_ I think I might be up to the job _

Christen’s mouth hurts with how big she’s smiling. Kelley moves a bit and Christen looks up before she can text back, worried that she’s realized how little attention she’s paying to what’s on the screen, but thankfully Kelley’s just reaching for more popcorn. 

Her phone vibrates with another message and Christen is surprised - Tobin rarely double texts. 

_ Do you mind a change of plans for Saturday? _

Christen bites down on her bottom lip, suddenly panicking and thinking that Tobin is about to cancel, but then - 

_ I know we talked about going hiking but I’ve actually got a ton of Christmas shopping to do and thought you’d be the perfect person to do it with. You down? _

_ I’m almost offended that you clearly associate me with going shopping. Also, isn’t that very last minute? _

_ I’ll probably just pick everything out on Amazon Prime. Mostly just want an excuse to see all the Christmas decorations and some fake snow lol _

_ Missing home? _

_ A little. I’d rather be here though :) _

She tries not to put too much stock in the words and the accompanying emoji, but nothing in the world feels as good as having Tobin Heath’s energy and affections directed at her. 

It’s enough to make her forget that this all started because she was afraid they were being directed at someone else.


	7. Leave Me Lonely

“I can’t believe there’s seriously a snow shortage!”

Christen can’t help but laugh at Tobin’s indignance. 

“I mean, it’s not even real snow!” she continues to exclaim as they stand in front of the sign with the notice taped to it. “What are all the kids supposed to take pictures with if not fake snow!”

“Santa Claus?” Christen suggests. 

Tobin frowns at her, clearly taking this very seriously. 

“I wanted the snow,” Tobin says, pouting in a way that makes her lips look plumper than usual. It’s disconcerting, but Christen does her best to focus on the moment. 

“I’m sorry,” Christen says sincerely, unthinkingly wrapping an arm around Tobin’s slumped shoulders. She isn’t sure what makes her do it - it’s the most contact they’ve had in years, and it sends little goosebumps along her arm that have absolutely nothing to do with the cool weather. It’s tempting to lean into Tobin, align their sides together and revel in the feel of it, but she forces herself to stop and act as normal as she can. 

They’re just friends, Christen reminds herself. If that. They haven’t discussed what they mean to each other, what it means that they text from the time they wake up until the time they go to bed - they haven’t discussed much at all besides the fact that Tobin isn’t going home for Christmas and they both need to hang out with the dogs again. 

“It’s alright,” Tobin says. “Maybe next time.”

“Next Christmas?” Christen asks in surprise, arm falling from Tobin to dangle at her side. “You can’t wait until then!”

“Well I can’t go home,” Tobin says with a shrug. “Not now, anyway.”

“Why not?” Christen asks curiously. It’s like Tobin wants her to ask, she thinks. 

But it’s clear that Tobin doesn’t want to answer that as her gaze catches on something in the distance. 

“Come on, I want to check out these new sneakers,” Tobin tells her, starting down a line of shops that branch off from the giant courtyard they’re in. “And maybe then we can grab a snack?”

“Are you always hungry?” Christen asks, biting her lip so she doesn’t smile. “It’s not even close to dinner time.”

“I only had a protein shake before my morning workout,” Tobin says as they walk at a fast pace. Their legs are nearly the same length and yet it always seems like Tobin’s stride is just the slightest bit longer than hers. 

“And you didn’t eat anything for lunch after?” 

Tobin looks at Christen sideways, her expression somewhat guilty. 

“I may have prioritized showering before meeting you,” Tobin admits. This time, Christen lets her smile grow. “I ended up working out longer than I thought I would, and I know how important being on time is to you…”

“How sweet of you,” Christen says, and it’s meant to tease but there’s a modicum of truth in the thought that makes her heart twinge. 

“I try,” Tobin says with a grin, and it’s not long before she’s trying on shoes and demanding Christen’s opinion. 

“We have completely different tastes in fashion!” Christen protests. “How can I tell you what to buy?”

“Because I trust your opinion,” Tobin says, looking up at Christen from her seated position. There’s something in her eyes there, something charismatic that makes Christen want to pick the perfect pair. “Come on, don’t make me do this myself.”

“Alright, alright,” Christen relents, aware of a salesperson watching them. 

“What about these?”

“I don’t know if I like the blue.”

Tobin studies her feet, stretched out in front of her, and takes a moment before agreeing.

“Okay,” she says, sliding them off her feet with utmost care. “Hand me the next pair.”

The green on those reminds Christen of Christmas.

“You’re tough to please,” Tobin comments, taking the next box from her. “Besides, is being reminded by Christmas when it’s only a few days away such a bad thing?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas as much as the next person,” Christen says. 

“But?” Tobin pushes. 

“But do you really want to carry it into the new year?”

Tobin looks at her knowingly. 

“You just want the celebrations over with so you can squeeze in your birthday,” she says, and Christen pauses, biting her lip as Tobin holds her gaze for an unnervingly long amount of time. 

“I work on Christmas,” she offers. “So I might be a little bitter about that.”

Tobin is the one to break the look and open up the next box of sneakers. 

“Can they make you do that?”

Christen is annoyed that Tobin doesn’t remember how her work schedule works, but explains it anyway. 

“We have to work a certain number of holidays,” Christen says. “That way, it’s split pretty evenly between us nurses.”

“That sucks,” Tobin says, and Christen can’t help but feel that she’s paying more attention to the shoes than what she’s saying.

“I have off Christmas Eve, then work Christmas day,” she says. “Then I’m off for the few days around my birthday, work New Years Eve, and am off New Years Day.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Tobin says, focused on her laces. “That way you can still go out and party.”

“Yeah,” Christen says. Tobin doesn’t reply, instead stretching out her legs again for a good look. 

“I’m going to lap around the store,” Tobin announces, standing up and jerking a thumb behind them. “See what the arch support is like.”

“Okay,” Christen says, and it feels like a dismissal, so she reaches for her phone and lets Tobin go. 

There’s no reply from a text she sent Kelley that morning, but that doesn’t worry her - she figures her best friend is just busy with her family. There are a couple from her dad trying to pin down Christmas Eve logistics, and after replying she switches over to Instagram. There’s one post from a few hours before that makes her thumb freeze mid-scroll, jaw dropping. 

**_kelleyohara_ ** _ just a couple of georgia peaches ! _

It’s nothing special, just a cute posed photo of her and this Sonnett girl against a wall of greenery. There are two accompanying peach emojis after the exclamation point and Sonnett is very clearly tagged in the post, her username hovering over her blonde ponytailed head when Christen’s thumb presses down. She knows it shouldn’t mean very much but she still gasps and calls for Tobin as soon as she’s within earshot, instantly forgetting about her minor irritation. 

“You’ve got to see this,” she says loudly, holding out her phone in Tobin’s direction. 

“Okay, hold on,” Tobin says, ambling over slowly. She reaches for the phone at what seems like half speed, and takes her sweet time examining the post. When she doesn’t immediately react the way Christen wants her to, it’s hard not to snatch the phone back. 

“Do you see this?” Christen says in disbelief. “She has the audacity to keep asking me if I’m doing okay, meanwhile she’s probably over here breaking NCAA rules, or at least university rules, and - “

“Chris,” Tobin interrupts gently, handing out the phone for her to take back. “Chris, we’re not her coaches anymore.”

Christen takes a moment to think about that and do her best to ignore the real reason she’s making a big deal out of this - she’s a little hurt that Kelley has yet to say anything about it. Really, she’s had yet to say anything about  _ Emily,  _ never even mentioning her specifically. 

“Is something really going on, you think?” Christen asks, locking her phone but keeping it held tight in her hand as Tobin sits down on the bench they’ve claimed. 

“Not that I know of,” Tobin says with a shrug. “Look, they’re just close friends. They’re both home for Christmas and don’t live far from each other. Don’t read into it more than that.”

Christen trusts Tobin enough to believe her when she says she doesn’t know if anything else is going on, but it’s the last bit that she says that really gets Christen. Maybe she sometimes reads into things more than she should - the opposite of Tobin, really, who never reads much into anything, including her own actions - and she’s wondering if she should stop putting so much thought into everything Tobin does. 

And who she interacts with on Instagram. 

It seems like a sign, she thinks. A sign to move past the very event that precipitated all of her anxiety for the last few months, and just be thankful for where she is now: next to Tobin. 

“Alright,” Christen says, feeling lighter than she has in ages. “I like those, by the way. I like the orange.”

“Good,” Tobin says with one of her orthodontist-advertisement grins. “Because I think I want them, and I wouldn’t dare get anything you don’t approve of.”

Christen grins right back.

*

The next few days leading up to Christmas go as smoothly as could be asked for. Christen spends a nice, quiet Christmas Eve with her family and manages to wake up for work without feeling too much resentment for the fact that she has to spend the day taking care of other people’s family members. She’s got leftovers packed into her lunch bag, courtesy of her mom refusing to let her leave the house without pressing several tupperware containers onto her, and the promise of reheated beef tenderloin is the only thing that keeps her going through the tough day. 

She’s beyond thankful for Tobin, who texts her  _ Merry Christmas  _ around eight in the morning, a string of festive emotions following the words. 

Kelley doesn’t disappoint either, sending several cheerful texts and even one video of Erin receiving the sweetest little puppy in front of the tree. It puts the biggest smile on Christen’s face, watching the way Erin promptly starts bawling tears as Kelley puts the tiny white thing in her lap. 

There are messages from her parents and sisters, cousins and other relatives, polite coworkers who are fortunate enough to have the day off, and old friends from high school and college who must send off a general text to everyone in their contacts. Christen is nearly debating putting her phone on Do Not Disturb as she heads off to round on her patients before taking a late lunch - picking at the giant Christmas cookie platter their boss had arranged to be delivered to the floor had kept her from feeling hungry all morning and well into the afternoon - but instead refrains, thinking that she’ll just be a few minutes before heading into the lounge and finally getting a chance to respond to everyone. 

But then disaster strikes in the form of a post-op patient who suddenly can’t stop leaking fluid from their surgical site, and Christen does her best to stem the flow before calling for Heather, feeling somewhat embarrassed at not being able to take care of it herself. 

“It’s okay,” Heather says calmly, arriving in the room with more gauze. “We’ll pack the wound for now and then call for a wound vac, it will get here within the hour, and we can attach it together.”

“Okay,” Christen says, wiping her forehead on her sleeve - her gloves are covered in bodily fluids. “Why is so much coming out though?”

Even though she’s been a practicing floor nurse for as long as she has, sometimes she still feels like she’s got no idea what she’s doing - like it’s her first day on the job. 

“They honestly should have attached one of these immediately post-op,” Heather says, clicking her tongue as she pulls on a pair of gloves and joins Heather at the bedside. “Or at least on post-op day one. What day is it?”

“Post-op day two,” Christen says, thankful that the patient is on a morphine PCA pump and only semi-conscious aside from the occasional wince of pain. “But report says that she walked four times with physical therapy yesterday which is probably why I’m having trouble managing her pain, and why it’s draining so much.”

“See?” Heather says helpfully, nudging Christen’s wrist with a stack of four-by-four gauze. “You know exactly why so much fluid is coming out. We’ll get it under control, Christen. Don’t stress about it.”

Christen could practically kiss her as they finish taping the wound. Once out in the hallway, Heather tells Christen to go and take lunch. 

“But the wound vac - “ Christen starts. 

“Will get here when it gets here. Who’s your buddy today, Alyssa? If it gets here while you’re on break, I’ll have her attach it with me. It’s nearly three - go eat. Our dressing will hold until then.”

It’s with great reluctance that Christen heads back towards the nurses station to collect her hidden water bottle, just half a step behind Heather who is already being called into another room. 

“Hey, Christen.”

Kling, as she prefers to be called, who mans the front desk most days, beckons her over. Christen goes over and tries not to groan out loud, already dreaming of the beep of the microwave telling her that her food is hot and ready.

“I’m headed to lunch,” Christen says as she rests her forearms against the nurses station. “Alyssa and Heather are going to watch my patients, is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Kling says, barely looking up from the computer screen in front of her. “It’s not them, you’ve got a visitor.”

Christen’s mind races - she’s definitely not expecting anyone. 

“Who?” Christen asks quickly. “Where are they?”

“The break room,” Kling says, unable to elaborate as the phone rings and she picks it up. 

It could be her mom, she thinks as she makes her way to their lounge. Or one of her sisters. She isn’t expecting anyone, but the list of possible visitors she quickly conjures in her mind doesn’t even come close to including the person she finds waiting for her on the other side of the door. 

It’s Tobin, dressed in warm-weather clothing despite the lower temperatures outside. She’s grinning beautifully and Christen is momentarily starstruck, frozen in the doorway as her brain tries to figure out  _ how. _

“Merry Christmas,” Tobin says, getting up from the rolling chair she’s settled in and brandishing a plastic bag in her outstretched hand. “I know you were pretty bummed about working today and you didn’t really respond to my text, so I figured you were busy.”

“I was literally just about to respond to everyone,” Christen says slowly, stepping forward just enough so the door can slam shut behind her. “What are you doing here? You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course I do,” Tobin says breezily, shaking the bag at Christen. “Come on, open your present.”

Christen’s eyebrows shoot up and she can feel her cheeks grow warm. All of this feels surreal, like a gesture she would have dreamed of years ago. Tobin has never been so forward, she thinks as she takes the bag, and it’s rather nice. However, it’s also hard to not bombard her with a thousand questions about exactly how and why she came to be where she is. 

“Seriously,” Christen takes, refusing to look inside the plastic bag until Tobin answers her. “Why are you here?”

“I told you,” Tobin says, slightly impatient but still good-natured in that special way of hers. “I knew you didn’t want to be at work today and everyone was napping after lunch, so I figured I’d come on over.”

“You didn’t even know where I worked!” Christen protests. 

Tobin sighs, falling into her chosen chair and rolling back a foot or two. 

“Open your present and I’ll tell you,” she says, looking at Christen in a way that makes her feel like she’s the only girl in the world. “Deal?”

Christen huffs - she’s not happy about it, but she supposes it’s the best she can ask for. 

“Just let me put my lunch in the microwave first,” she compromises, and Tobin bounces her leg and plays on her phone while she waits for Christen to finally sit next to her. It’s funny like this, with Tobin so close and in a place that is so entirely Christen’s. Tobin isn’t the type to give up home field advantage, so Christen resolves to do as much as she can with the circumstances. 

“Okay,” she says once the microwave is counting down. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Tobin puts her phone down and watches intently as Christen pulls out something soft and blue. It’s a championship t-shirt, the one that Tobin and Kelley and all their players had been wearing after they’d won a few weeks back. She’s not sure what she expected, but the thought that Tobin wants Christen to think of her every time she wears the shirt stuns her into silence for a moment. 

“Do you like it?” Tobin asks, leg still bouncing. 

“Of course,” Christen says, trying to keep her voice steady. “Of course I like it, Tobin. Thank you, really.”

“Good,” Tobin says with a smile. Her hair is down and falling over her collarbones, and Christen wants nothing more than to reach out and tangle her fingers in the soft-looking strands. “I know it’s not much, and technically I didn’t have to buy it since a ton were hanging out in the offices, but I didn’t think you had one yet.”

“It’s really great,” Christen tells her honestly, folding the shirt and putting it aside. “Thank you. Now are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

“I asked Kelley,” Tobin says with a guilty grin. “That’s kind of cheating, I know, but I was pretty sure I remembered the name of the hospital and I just had to check that you still worked here. From there I just put it in my phone!”

There’s something so light and brilliant about the Tobin in front of her, and Christen pulls herself away with great reluctance so she can retrieve her food. 

“Are you having a good day?” Tobin asks, watching Christen sit down with her tupperware. “Either you’ve been super busy, or you just didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I’ve been busy,” Christen says apologetically. “It’s way crazier than it should be for Christmas, honestly.”

“Good to know it’s not me then,” Tobin jokes.

Christen bites her lip, staring at Tobin’s crinkly eyes and thinking that surely, this is too good to be true. 

“Definitely not you,” Christen tells her with a nervous smile and chuckle. “Trust me.”

Tobin leans forward on the table, left arm propping up her head so she can turn to her side and stare at Christen as she eats. It makes her a little self conscious as she swallows her first few bites, but Tobin seems completely unbothered. Rather she just keeps on talking, saying more than she has since they first reconnected, it seems.

“I’m glad the timing worked out,” she says. 

Christen makes a questioning noise from the back of her throat, too busy chewing to respond properly. 

“Me coming over, you taking lunch,” Tobin clarifies. “Like damn, you’re eating late! But it works out in my favor, because this way I can actually hang out with you, you know? Instead of just doing a drive-by.”

Christen can’t help the way her heart soars and her mind races. It only takes a few seconds before she’s imagining Tobin visiting her regularly at work, turning up with lunch for the two of them. She pictures the two of them in the corner of the break room, laughing over takeout or apple slices. Tobin’s arm slung over the back of Christen’s rolling chair, adoration in her eyes like stars in the sky. 

It’s dangerous, the way it escalates in her mind, but she can’t help it. That’s how it’s always been with Tobin, always feeling larger than life, always spiraling out before Christen can stop it. 

She swallows thickly before speaking, thankful that she’s got an excuse for her delayed response. 

“You didn’t have to stay,” she says softly. “You didn’t have to come at all, actually. But it means a lot to me that you did.”

Tobin just shrugs the best that she can from her position. 

“I’m trying to be a good friend,” she says off-handedly. “I know I wasn’t before, but I’ve come a long way since then. I think I can actually be a good friend to you now.”

The use of the word friend is slightly off-putting, putting butterflies in Christen’s stomach - and not the good kind. 

“I’ve really missed having you in my life,” Christen says as normally as she can, fork poking at her food. “We used to talk so much. We really took up a big space in each other’s lives.”

“I know,” Tobin says, and it’s not noticeably wistful or nostalgic like Christen hopes it could be. “For a while it was really weird to try and deal with that space. But I don’t want that again, you know? I think I’m in a good enough place where I don’t need someone to take up so much of me.”

It’s disheartening, but Christen can’t help pushing. She doesn’t want to push - she knows that’s how she lost Tobin the first time - but she can’t help it. She can’t let Tobin say things like that and not react, she just can’t. 

“But that’s how it is with people you care about,” Christen points out. “When someone is important to you, that’s how it is when you lose them.”

“Yeah,” Tobin says, and it’s too solemn. “Maybe. But I still want to be able to function if I happen to lose the people in my life.”

That leaves Christen at a loss for words. She doesn’t really know much about what life was like for Tobin when the two of them stopped talking, as Kelley wasn’t about to divulge the details of exactly how messy things got for them, but she’s gathered enough to know that it wasn’t exactly pretty. It’s hard to think back on what it was like for Christen - there were a lot of tears, she remembers that as well as the long dark days that seemed to be full of sadness and hurt and not much else. Days that she just wanted to end so she could just get to the next one. 

It’s a strange thing, really, to have your heart broken. There was something so isolating about it, about being so close to someone and then not having them at all. Christen had been closer to Tobin than anyone and to lose  _ her person _ like that had left her feeling so lonely no matter how many people tried to be there for her. She’d had Kelley and her parents and yet still couldn’t fill the space that Tobin speaks of - in fact, she’s not entirely sure that she ever did. Because now she’s still feeling it, the giant gaping hole that Tobin had left behind. It still hurts from time to time and especially now, with Tobin looking like she’s got no idea that what she’s saying is the opposite of what Christen wants to hear. 

“I’m sorry,” Tobin says after a long pause. “I’m not trying to hash all this out right now. Or relive it, or whatever. It’s in the past now.”

“Yeah,” Christen says into her reheated potatoes. “Right.”

This time it’s Tobin who doesn’t seem to have anything to say, so Christen straightens up and tries to find better words for the two of them. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself before the speaks. 

“It’s weird,” she starts, “because we never really talked about it.”

“I know,” Tobin says quickly, and Christen isn’t sure if she’s just imagining it, but she senses a bit of guilt in those two words. “I know we never did, but sometimes things are tough and you can’t really find a way to get closure, or whatever.”

Christen nods in agreement. 

“I want to be friends,” Tobin says. “If you think you can manage.”

Christen knows that she wants Tobin to be more than just her friend, so she hesitates before answering. She wonders if it’s better to lie for the sake of keeping Tobin in her life. 

“Let’s see what we can handle,” she settles on. “See what we’re both capable of.”

It must be the right thing to say because Tobin pushes off her shoulder to sit up and shoot one of her picture-perfect smiles at Christen. 

“Let’s do it,” she says with such conviction that Christen wants to believe that Tobin knows what she’s truly thinking. 

“Okay,” Christen says, smiling right back. 

She doesn’t know if they’re on the same page yet, but she at least feels that she’s got the chance to figure that out. 

*

Kelley doesn’t waste her time coming back to town - she’s been there for Christen’s birthday almost every year since they met, and this is no exception. 

“I don’t want anything fancy,” Christen insists every year, and Kelley usually obliges. There’s always a dinner out with Christen’s family, followed by cake at home and then Kelley pops up to take Christen out for drinks. It’s always very lowkey, simple and relaxed and nothing that would have Christen feeling anxious. It’s what she wants, and it’s always what she gets. 

This year though, Christen is decidedly upset by the time she gets to Kelley’s apartment. 

“What’s wrong?” Kelley asks immediately as she opens the door, dressed up in sparkly pants and black heels. 

Christen isn’t dumb - she knows Kelley heard it in her voice when she called to let her know that she was on her way over. She knows that Kelley heard the anxious edge, how upset she was. She knows that Kelley isn’t dumb, that she can tell when Christen is on the verge of tears. 

“Nothing,” Christen says, stepping inside so Kelley can close the door. It’s a lie, but lying to herself is the only way she’s managed to keep herself together all day. “I’m fine. Traffic was just really bad.”

“Christen,” Kelley says firmly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

That’s really all it takes to get Christen sniffling. Kelley tugs roughly on her upper arm, leading her to the couch and pushing her down. 

“Come on,” Kelley insists. “You can talk to me.”

Christen touches her fingertips to the corners of her eyes, trying to stop any potential tears from ruining her mascara. 

“It’s stupid,” she mutters, thinking that she’s probably just overreacting. 

Kelley frowns. 

“It can’t be that stupid if it’s got you upset,” she says, sitting down and scooting right night to Christen, throwing an arm around her shoulders to hold her close. It takes a moment for Christen to lean into her, to release enough of the tension in her body to relax just a fraction. “You know you’ll feel better once you get it out.”

She’s right, and Christen hates that. She hates that Kelley actually knows her pretty well. 

“It’s dumb,” Christen reiterates, but a sharp pinch to the thin skin of the side of her neck has her wincing. “Ow, Kell! You didn’t have to do that!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kelley apologizes. “But seriously, who can you tell if not me?”

She’s not wrong, and as much as Christen has been doing her best to keep this to herself, she can’t deny that the prospect of getting some of it off her chest might make her feel a little better. 

So she comes right out with it. 

“Tobin didn’t wish me a happy birthday,” she says quietly, almost hoping that Kelley won’t hear her, but she does. 

“Oh,” Kelley says, mouth twisting curiously. “I mean, you know she sucks with dates and birthdays and stuff. Were you like, thinking she would remember?”

Christen doesn’t say anything as she wrings her hands in her lap, too ashamed of the way she’s been feeling and too hurt by Tobin’s actions to want to say anything more on the matter. 

“Christen, honey,” Kelley says, sounding concerned. 

She stares ahead, not wanting to have this conversation. 

“Christen,” Kelley tries again. “Did you think Tobin would wish you a happy birthday?”

She swallows hard. 

“We kind of hung out a couple times,” she says as offhandedly as she can manage with her voice trembling. “I thought she might acknowledge it, or something.”

Kelley’s hand moves to rub soothing circles on Christen’s back. 

“Have you guys been talking again?” she asks, careful, and that’s Christen knows that Kelley is taking this seriously. 

“I don’t know,” Christen says, doing her best not to pity herself. “I missed her, Kell. I do miss her. I told her that a couple of times and I thought that maybe it meant something to her and she just didn’t want to say anything, or admit anything because I know I really hurt her last time and - “

“Wait, wait,” Kelley interrupts. “Christen, I’m going to try and follow what you’re saying, but you’ve got to remember that I’ve got no idea what happened with you two.”

Christen sighs in frustration, not wanting to spend her night on Kelley’s couch, spilling every detail of the deterioration of her non-relationship with Tobin, but wanting some kind of reassurance or comfort.

Anything to make her feel better about this, really. 

“I know,” Christen says, wiping under her eyes to make sure her eye makeup hasn’t smeared. “I don’t know how to explain it all. I just thought we were getting close again, like she even came to visit me at the hospital on Christmas, and then she goes and does something like this. I don’t get it.”

“Oh,” Kelley says, hugging her tightly. “Shit, Christen. I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” Christen says, trying not to let herself cry the way she wants to. Instead she just sits there and lets Kelley rest her head against her arm, unable to reciprocate the gesture. “It’s stupid, like I said.”

“It’s not stupid,” Kelley says, unusually soft. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” Christen says. “Really, it’s fine. I’m just being stupid.”

“Do you want me to beat her up for you?” Kelley offers, and Christen laughs, small and a little snotty thanks to the unreleased tears she’s built up. “Consider it a birthday present.”

“No, it’s okay,” Christen says, finally reclining fully back into the couch. Kelley goes with her, still holding on tight. 

“Tobin’s dumb,” Kelley mumbles against Christen’s sleeve. “She’s great, but you’re a fucking catch and she’s dumb as hell.”

“Thanks, Kell,” Christen says. 

“We don’t have to go out,” Kelley offers nicely. “If you’re not in the mood.”

“No, we can go out for a drink,” Christen says even though she doesn’t particularly want to. “I mean, you got all dressed up for me.”

It takes a bit of convincing, but eventually Kelley calls them an Uber and takes them to one of her favorite places to grab drinks. 

“This is the one I go to when I’m not with the kids,” Kelley says, her eyes sparkling as they wait for their drinks. “It’s actually a little classy, if you can tell.”

“Speaking of which,” Christen says, feeling slightly better after Kelley had spent the entire ride over ranting about all the ways in which Tobin didn’t deserve Christen - none of them seemed particularly well founded in Christen’s opinion, but she’d laughed and appreciated the sentiments nevertheless. “You spent Christmas break with one of them?”

She’s not sure where she found the courage to ask the question - maybe it’s the good music playing through the speakers or the ego boost Kelley had given her - but she’s mighty glad that she did, because Kelley flushes deep scarlet and immediately shakes her head, nearly spluttering in an attempt to explain. 

“No no, it’s not like we spent our breaks together,” Kelley says quickly, tripping over her words. “No, Em just happens to live like, not very far from my parents’ house and I don’t really know anyone still in town so it’s not a big deal.”

“Right,” Christen says, grinning at Kelley who looks like a deer in headlights. A week ago she was upset by the mere prospect of this, but something about Kelley’s reaction is more than simply amusing. “And you’re just the type of assistant coach to hang out with her students while they’re on holiday?”

“Yes,” Kelley says defensively. “Yes, that’s exactly the type of assistant coach I am. Is there a problem with that?”

“There might be,” Christen starts, but Kelley is saved from further questioning as a server brings them their drinks. They’re seated in a lounge area, full of low and wide couches, and Kelley reaches for a pink colored drink in a martini glass while Christen takes a sip of something clear and bubbly. 

“Do you want a look at the appetizer menu?” Kelley asks. 

“Depends,” Christen says. “Are we having more than one drink?”

One drink turns into two which turns into three, and Christen never promised to be anything other than a lightweight. She giggles as Kelley orders them buffalo cauliflower “wings” - they’re vegan, apparently, and therefore Kelley approved. They’re not horrible, but Christen does spend more time making fun of them than she does eating them. By the time they decide to head out, Christen is feeling sufficiently tipsy and warm in the cold winter air as they wait for their ride to arrive. 

“Thank you,” Christen says, letting Kelley kiss her cheek. “You’re such a good friend, Kelley.”

“Are you staying the night?” Kelley asks. “Please say yes! I’ll even let you use my toothbrush.”

“I definitely do not want to do that,” Christen says, shuddering at the thought. 

“Okay, but I have another thought,” Kelley says, her eyes going wide. “And before you say no, just say yes and hear me out.”

Christen shivers slightly as a gust of wind blows past them. 

“Maybe,” she says, thinking that Kelley is very lucky that she’s more likely to say yes to things when she’s had more than two drinks. “What is it?”

“Come to Alex Morgan’s New Years Party with me,” Kelley pleads. “You’ve got to.”

“I don’t even know her!” Christen exclaims, shaking her head. “No way, Kell.”

“Please?” Kelley begs. “Come on, Tobin is more than likely going to be there and Alex is really nice and her house is super cool - “

Christen is still shaking her head even though her brain is starting to hurt.

“I’ll let you sleep on it,” Kelley says as the car they’re waiting for pulls up. “Okay? But please say yes - we’ll get you pretty and make Tobin regret ever not texting you.”

The second to last thought Christen has when she falls asleep that night is that everyone should have a friend like Kelley O’Hara. 

The very last thought is that Tobin, who most definitely knew her birthday was approaching and had even texted her throughout the day, albeit with slightly less frequency than usual, is indeed dumb as hell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep getting asked if i'm still working on this and the answer is yes! i'm still actively writing and updating in between my other fic, i promise. i have a clear vision for this and won't be abandoning it. on that note, reviews are always appreciated very much but i am more likely to answer any questions faster if you ask me on tumblr. thank you for reading!


	8. in my head

It’s not often that Christen is willing to admit when Kelley is right, but sometimes she’s spot on about things, and she’s forced to concede.

The first thing Kelley was right about is that Alex Morgan does indeed have a super cool house, to use her phrasing. It’s sprawling with an excellent backyard, centered around a pool that nobody is paying any mind as they’re all dressed in evening wear. The theme is sequins, something Kelley had been kind enough to tell her ahead of time, and Christen had borrowed something short and black from her sister for the occasion. It’s a lovely party with champagne and a photobooth station, and Kelley promises Christen that they’ll be stopping there later before midnight. 

The second thing that Kelley was right about is that Alex is really nice. She’s a gracious hostess, miraculously appearing out of nowhere once they’ve been in the house for a maximum of sixty seconds, embracing Kelley warmly before extending the same gesture to Christen. She’s exceedingly beautiful and smells like a royal princess, and Christen is a little surprised when she remembers that Tobin and Alex are supposedly very close - they seem like complete opposites.

“Hi,” Alex says, and within moments, both Christen and Kelley find themselves with a flute of champagne in their hands. “Hi Kelley, how are you? I’m Alex, you’re - “

“Christen,” she says hastily, switching her glass to her other hand so she can easily accept the half-hug offered to her. “I’ve known Kelley since college. I think we’ve met in passing a few times.”

“Oh, I know who you are!” Alex says brightly, with a small but lovely laugh. “Trust me, even though I’m not the best with names and faces, she talks about you all the time.” She turns to walk further into the house, heels clicking on the floor, and motions for Kelley and Christen to follow her.

“Do you really talk about me all the time?” Christen asks under her breath. 

“Definitely,” Kelley says. “Only the bad things, of course.”

Christen suppresses a smile as Alex gives them a quick tour through to the backyard, more for Christen’s benefit than Kelley’s, and she’s impossibly kind and welcoming. 

“I’ll be around if you need anything,” she says reassuringly, in a way that makes Christen believe that Alex would truly be available if she needed anything, and she goes back inside to greet a new group of guests. 

“So?” Kelley asks with wide eyes aimed at Christen expectantly. “What do you think?” 

“She’s pretty, but we already knew that. And the house is nice,” Christen concedes, looking over her shoulder through the glass doors to see where Alex is wrapping her arms around a girl with blonde hair. Then, after a beat during which Kelley is too busy drinking to speak - “Is Tobin really supposed to be here?”

Kelley shrugs as she swallows. 

“She’s supposed to be, but you know Tobin.”

Christen does indeed know Tobin and her inability to commit to something unless she wants to throw one hundred percent of herself into it. It’s mildly disappointing, and she’s got a text from Tobin sitting in her phone from the previous morning that she’s yet to reply to, but she’s definitely not about to try and ask her if she’s coming. More than a little bit upset about Tobin not acknowledging her birthday, reaching out is at the bottom of the list of the things that she wants to do. 

“Yeah,” Christen says slowly. “Yeah, I know Tobin, alright.”

Kelley looks at her apprehensively, as though she isn’t sure whether she wants to say anything or not, but she seems to collect herself rather quickly and straighten up. 

“Let’s finish these,” Kelley says, dangling her nearly-empty champagne flute in Christen’s face, “and then scope out the food situation. I’m starving.”

“Okay, but I want to find a bathroom to check out my lipstick situation,” Christen compromises, because the deep red is already rubbing off on the lip of the glass and the last thing she wants is to run into Tobin with a mouth reminiscent of the Joker. 

“Deal,” Kelley says, nodding before forcing Christen to clink their flutes together. “Now come on, bottoms up!”

Christen obliges because there’s no reason not to, and by the time they’ve made it to the bathroom and the kitchen, she’s finished her champagne and has managed to forget about Tobin for approximately two and a half minutes. She’s laughing as Kelley whispers in her ear about all the people she recognizes at the party, pulling faces as she obviously points them out. 

“I’m not exactly close to all her national teammates,” Kelley explains. “I know of them, more than anything. Thanks to my years of club soccer.”

That just makes Christen think of Tobin, who had actually played with Alex on the national team, and presumably some of the girls Kelley is pointing out. She tries to shake the idea out of her head though, blinking hard and refocusing her attention on the trays of finger foods laid out in front of them. 

“What do you think these are?” she asks, pointing to something enveloped in pastry, and thankfully Kelley doesn’t seem bothered by the subject change. 

“Definitely some kind of meat inside,” she says. “I’m going to pass, but I dare you to try it.”

Christen staunchly refuses and they both end up squealing with laughter as Kelley tries to force one of them onto her plate, and Christen wonders if this is how the rest of her foreseeable future is going to go: trying and failing to forget about Tobin for more than short stretches of time. It’s not what she wants, not at all. Christen thinks that at this point, especially after her birthday, she should just get over the entire thing and stop clinging to nothing, because nothing ever really means anything to Tobin, apparently. 

It’s hard not to feel like a fool, putting too much stock into things like Tobin visiting her at work and presenting her with that was essentially a regift. It’s hard to not minimize her own feelings by convincing herself that birthdays don’t matter and it shouldn’t be a big deal if Tobin had forgotten hers. It’s hard to fully enjoy her night when most of the time she’s terrified that Tobin will pop out from behind a corner like a clown in a haunted house.

She puts on a good show though, letting Kelley introduce her to some people who make polite conversation. Christen doesn’t have much to say - most of the guests are teammates of either Alex or her husband, and professional athletes and health professionals don’t exactly have much in common with each other - but she tries not to let that keep her from smiling widely and engaging in small talk about how good the canapes are and how fun the photo booth looks. By the time Alex finds Kelley again, the influx of guests presumably having died down, she forces champagne into everyone’s hands again and begs Kelley and Christen to visit the booth with her. 

“Let me try to enjoy my own party,” she says with pleading ocean blue eyes. “I’d ask Allie to join us, but she’s done it already and claims she’s already posed with all the good props.”

And that’s how Christen finds herself with a gigantic pair of glasses reading 2020, body pressed close to Alex who had snagged a sparkly tiara and a feather boa. Kelley’s got a funny glittery hat on and it suits her, and for a moment she thinks too hard about it. 

It’s a funny thought that overcomes her as the hired photographer snaps a few pictures. 

She loves Kelley, and Kelley loves her. 

So why have they never tried being together?

She’s quickly spiraling out of control, her mind fast-forwarding to midnight and wondering what Kelley would do if she tried to kiss her, and she doesn’t think that the champagne is to blame, but she also doesn’t know how to be sure of that. They’ve never crossed that line but Kelley is attractive and the best friend Christen has ever had, barring the time she’d spent being close to Tobin, and she tries to work out if it’s worth the risk. Surely their friendship is solid enough to withstand anything, Christen decides, and by the time Alex is yelling out gleefully for her to smile for the last shot, she’s made up her mind. 

It’s worth a try, isn’t it?

At least that’s what she thinks until they’re done taking pictures and she’s nodding while Alex tells them that she promises to email the shots out to everyone. Alex cuts herself off mid-sentence, suddenly looking off to the side, and Christen can’t help but follow her reproachful gaze to just beyond the small group of people waiting for their turn in front of the camera. It’s Tobin, looking both woefully attractive and horribly casual at the safe time, and Christen stiffens immediately. Kelley’s hand comes up to brush against Christen’s back - perhaps in solidarity, she’s not entirely sure - and while moments before she’d been seriously entertaining kissing her best friend, she couldn’t be any further from that now. 

It’s so unfair, Christen thinks, how Tobin has always had this hold over her. It feels at times that no matter what she does, she just can’t escape it, even when it makes her feel like this. Because Tobin isn’t even acknowledging her, instead barely raising a hand in greeting as Alex shouts something at her. Christen has no idea what’s happening, but she’s sure that it’s not nearly as dramatic as she’s making it out to be in her head. She’s sure that there’s no reason for her to feel like she can't get enough air in her lungs, but here she is: completely and totally obsessed with a girl who couldn’t care less about her. 

Tobin doesn’t come over because Alex goes to her, and Christen forces herself to unfreeze and do something so that she isn’t visibly moping around. 

“Should I say something?” she asks while turning to face Kelley, the two of them slowly moving to the side so they’re no longer in the photographer’s way. She doesn’t even bother prefacing her question with anything, as she assumes that Kelley knows exactly what she’s referring to. After all, Tobin is half the reason Christen is here in the first place. 

“I’m always here to support you,” Kelley says. 

“That’s such a non-answer,” Christen says, shocking both herself and Kelley with the bluntness of it. Kelley’s eyes go slightly wide and she runs a hand through her hair before responding properly. 

“Like, I’m all for you showing Tobin what she’s missing by being a giant dumbass,” Kelley says. “But since you’re kind of refusing to tell me exactly what issues exist between the two of you in the first place, it’s really hard for me to give you any kind of advice. I just want you to be happy, okay? Whether that’s with or without Tobin.”

Christen’s bottom lip wobbles and she doesn’t know how to take all of that, because Kelley isn’t wrong here. 

“Is it weird if I just ask her why she didn’t wish me a happy birthday?” Christen asks. 

“No,” Kelley says with a shrug. “But you’re probably not going to get the answer you want. So as long as you know that…”

She trails off, looking at Christen in a way that’s apologetic and sincere. 

“I don’t want to be to one to find her,” Christen says, and Kelley nods in understanding, standing taller in her heels and snapping to attention. 

“Right,” Kelley says firmly, reaching for Christen’s hand and dragging her forward. “Okay look, I’ll do this for you because what Tobin has done is shitty, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself. If she doesn’t give you the answer you want to hear, if there’s no good reason for the way she keeps treating you, then you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

She says it with her face aimed forward, pulling Christen across the house to the kitchen, where Tobin can be seen talking to Alex. 

“Wait,” Christen says, slowing down so that Kelley is forced to as well. “What if that’s not what I want?”

“What do you want!” Kelley exclaims, and Christen feels bad for forcing this on her best friend so much that it’s come to this, come to genuine exasperation. “Do you want to talk to her or not?”

“I don’t want to stop this,” Christen says, because the prospect of finally closing the book on Tobin is terrifying. She’s got no idea how she would even begin to get past everything between them. “I love her, okay?”

“I know,” Kelley says, and she’s just a little bit gentler this time. “I know, and I’m sure she loves you too. But sometimes that’s not all there is to it, okay?”

Christen doesn’t want to admit that Kelley is right, that sometimes love just isn’t enough, but she knows that she is, so she just nods and lets Kelley haul her the rest of the way until Alex is smiling at them. 

“Hi, guys,” she says. “Look Tobin, at least these two will help protect you.”

Tobin has her mouth full with something and doesn’t answer immediately, Kelley speaks up. 

“Why would we help protect her?” she asks, audibly annoyed, not that Christen can blame her at this point. 

“I mean, you know she hates our old teammates,” Alex says with a laugh. Tobin swallows quickly, elbowing Alex roughly. 

“I don’t hate them,” Tobin says. “I just hate being asked what I’m up to. Everyone always wants to know when I’m coming back to play.”

“You think they’d get it through their heads after three years and a very definite announcement,” Alex says, and she seems to be making light of the entire thing, but Christen is frowning and wondering why Alex is talking about this. It’s not until she realizes that Alex is looking very pointedly at her that something seems to shift closer to its rightful place, and she furrows her brows, trying to put it all together. 

“Kelley,” she asks lowly, touching her friend’s wrist lightly, hoping that Alex and Tobin don’t hear her. “Did you tell her….”

Kelley shakes her head. 

“Did you?” Christen says, louder and more aggressively than intended, and she’s looking at Tobin who looks surprised, to say the least. 

“Did I what?” Tobin asks. 

Christen just shakes her head in disbelief, and she hadn’t meant to do it all like this, but she’s upset and tired of pretending like she isn’t; she’s tired of pretending like the way Tobin’s been treating her is okay, all in the hopes of being docile enough to get Tobin to feel comfortable enough to admit some mutual feelings for her that may or may not exist in the first place. 

“I don’t know Alex,” Christen says, and maybe it’s harsh, but Alex seems unflappable and she’s not concerned about Tobin’s feelings at this point. “So how does she know that I know you?”

Tobin doesn’t say anything, but Alex does. 

“I figured you knew,” she says, looking between Christen and Tobin. “When you first came in earlier, I told you, I said ‘she talks about you all the time.’”

“I thought you meant Kelley,” Christen says, and she can feel her cheeks heating up, and anger is overshadowing every multi-faceted emotion she’s feeling right now. 

“I mean, maybe a little,” Alex says. “Maybe a normal amount. I’ve mostly heard all about you from Tobin, though. What - what’s wrong with that?”

Christen feels like a fish, mouth gaping open, and Tobin still isn’t saying anything, just taking another bite of the food on her plate, and maybe that's the last straw. She turns on her heel and nearly stumbles - Kelley shoots out an arm to try to steady her, but Christen just shakes her off. 

“I’m fine,” she says, and she might not be fine at all, because she feels violated in a weird way, but she doesn’t need Kelley for this. If Kelley’s going to claim that she can only be there for her if she understands what exactly went down with Tobin, if she tries to say that Christen can’t keep doing this, then maybe Christen needs to stop leaning on her in the first place. It’s a bit of a challenge thanks to the polished floors, but Christen stalks out of the room as smoothly as she can manage and keeps going, and going, until she reaches the bathroom from earlier. It’s mercifully empty, a gift she isn’t about to overlook, and when she sits herself on top of the closed toilet seat and buries her head in her hands, the first calm and rational thought she has is: what if Kelley’s right?

What if Christen really does need to stop doing this to herself?

Maybe she’s been doing this to herself all along, Christen thinks miserably, letting her small purse fall into her lap. Maybe she should have let Tobin go a long time ago, and  _ really _ let her go - none of this pretending to be over someone when she isn’t kind of business. Maybe she should have never tried to rekindle their friendship, especially when she’d had a bit of an ulterior motive all along. 

Because that’s not fair to Tobin or herself, Christen realizes, picking her head up and going to the sink, examining her reflection closely. 

She starts to touch up her lipstick again, and halfway through, a gentle and unfamiliar knock on the door makes her hand jerk bad enough to get red outside of her lip line. 

“Christen?” Alex’s voice sounds through the thick door. “Can you please let me in?”

And because Christen doesn’t know what else to do at this point, and she feels bad about taking out her emotions on Alex who definitely hadn’t done anything wrong except make a few casual comments, she opens up the door to her. Alex looks decently apologetic enough that she doesn’t regret the decision right away, and slithers into the bathroom so she can close the door behind her. 

“Are you okay?” Alex asks. 

“Yeah,” Christen says, thankful that she hadn’t had the opportunity to think long enough to end up crying as she is likely to do when given too much time alone with her thoughts. 

“I know I don’t know you all that well,” Alex starts, leaning up against the bathroom counter and studying Christen carefully. “But do you want to tell me what just happened out there?”

She doesn’t answer right away, focused on trying to use the edge of her fingernail to wipe away the stray streak of red veering down towards her chin. 

“Not really,” Christen says, partly because Alex is right and they don’t know each other all that well, but also partly because she’s so used to hiding this part of her life away. What had happened with her and Tobin had felt so private yet monumental that the thought of opening up about it with someone is mildly horrifying, to put it nicely. Factoring in how embarrassed she is about the way she’s felt throughout the ordeal - well, it’s a miracle she’s let Alex into the room in the first place. 

“Because here’s the thing,” Alex says, and she’s bold in a way she hasn’t been all night, no longer the ebullient hostess she’s so talented at playing, “I’ve known Tobin for years. I know her really well, actually. She’s one of my best friends.”

“Okay,” Christen says, turning on the tap to run her index finger under the water, hoping it will help the lipstick to come off. She’s not sure why Alex is telling her this. 

“And she made it seem like the two of you were finally on good terms again,” Alex continues. “But the way you just acted made me think otherwise.”

“Of course she’d think that,” Christen says under her breath, and she’s frustrated because of Tobin and Kelley and now Alex, and also because her lipstick is just smearing all over and she doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Do you want me to help you with that?” Alex offers, and Christen is about to refuse, but then nods, because even if her personal life feels like it’s in shambles, she can at least do her best to look like she’s got everything in order. Alex crouches down - rather impressively, considering how tight her dress looks - and when she stands back up, it’s with a cotton round and a travel-sized bottle of makeup remover. 

She stands as tall as she can, eyes lifted above Alex’s head, letting Alex grip her chin and lightly dab a cotton round by her mouth. 

“Is everything okay?” Alex asks, and it’s soft and kind and Christen almost wishes that Alex could be her friend too. “Because I don’t know you, but Tobin has always spoken very highly of you. You seem like a good person.”

It’s a simple comment, but it hits Christen like a swift kick to the gut. She sucks in air and holds it there in her lungs, not sure of what to say. 

“I know things were messy,” Alex says, and she’s so sweet that Christen almost wonders if Tobin had really told her everything. Surely, if she knew the whole story, she wouldn’t be so nice to Christen right now. Alex pats the dry half of the cotton to Christen’s mouth, inspecting it closely before letting go of the tight grip she has on her face. “Do you want me to help with the lipstick?”

Christen lets out a long breath, wondering if Alex can see how her hands are shaking, and nods once. 

“She was really upset about things,” Alex keeps on, twisting up the tube of red and inspecting it. “This is a really nice color - I don’t know if it would match my undertones, but it’s perfect for you.”

She reaches for Christen’s face again, and Christen goes a bit easier this time, letting Alex’s eyes find hers and hold her gaze. 

“This is weird because I don’t know you,” Alex breathes out, and then she breaks their eye contact to apply the lipstick. “But I feel like I do. It’s not like Tobin to tell me things about her personal life, and I don’t expect her to. She’s always been super private, and I respect that. But she was really upset when you guys stopped seeing each other, and I don’t know how you felt about it, but just please don’t hurt her again. It took her a long time to come back from it all, and I don’t exactly believe her when she tells me she’s over it all - she’d kill me if she knew I was saying all of this, by the way - but I’m just asking you not to break her heart again.”

Alex leans back to examine her handiwork, expertly capping the lipstick and smiling at Christen.

“You’re beautiful,” she tells Christen. “I can see why she fell in love with you to begin with.”

“She didn’t,” Christen says, and her voice breaks so she has to clear her throat, and she takes the lipstick back from Alex who is wearing a confused expression. “She didn’t fall in love with me.”

“Oh,” Alex says, “well, she told me she did.”

And Christen thinks that maybe it’s just because she wants it to be true, but part of her believes Alex. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda ended up splitting this into two separate chapters because i think it flows better that way. next chapter i hope you're ready to find out exactly what happened between christen and tobin. that being said, i hope this was worth the wait despite the lack of tobin here - let me know if it was or not!


	9. Get Well Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really hope the formatting makes sense for this chapter but if it doesn't feel free to ask for clarification!

The only good explanation for how she has ended up where she is, is that Alex is some kind of magician. The way she’d so effortlessly convinced Christen to leave the bathroom and then kept her close as she hunted Tobin down had been kind of amazing, really. Now Christen is doing her best to try and sit next to Tobin, who is perched on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water, without flashing her underwear to anyone who happens to be looking in their direction. 

It’s getting late, Christen is aware. Not quite midnight, but getting closer. 

“What time is it?” she asks, her shoes slipped off so she can dip her own feet down into the cool water. It feels good on her feet which are hot and aching from being in heels for so long. 

Tobin checks her phone, carelessly tossed on the ground next to her. 

“Ten fifty-four,” she reads out. “It’s already the new year on the east coast.”

“Why didn’t you go back for the holidays?” Christen asks, because she still doesn’t quite understand it. 

Tobin doesn’t say anything, just looking forward, and Christen tries again. 

“You forgot my birthday,” she says, and she does her best to keep her voice neutral, but she knows she doesn’t do a very good job of keeping the hurt out of the words. 

Tobin exhales long and hard, head tilting back, and it makes Christen’s heart clench. She wishes she didn’t feel this way, that she didn’t feel so many things every time she gets close to Tobin. 

“Why?” Christen pushes. “I know that you know when it is. I know that you know it’s important to me. So why did you ignore it?”

“Is that why you never texted me back?” Tobin asks, and it’s so infuriating, the way she never talks about what Christen so desperately needs to talk about. “I kind of felt like maybe I did something, but I didn’t want to force you to talk to me if you didn’t want to.”

Christen scoffs, kicking her feet a little, sending ripples out through the pool surface. 

“Are you going to answer anything I ask you?” she asks, and she knows it’s more aggressive than she ever would be normally, but nothing seems to work with Tobin, and she wishes it wasn’t so easy to fall back into the pattern where Christen pushes until Tobin retreats, but old habits die hard. 

“I don’t have a good answer for you,” Tobin says simply. 

“You can give me something, at least,” Christen says, and she looks sideways at Tobin who nods and swallows before doing so. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, and Christen can’t figure out if it’s genuine or not. “I did know it was your birthday. And I do know that it’s important to you.”

“So then what happened?” Christen asks, and the words come out as a sort of frustrated laugh. 

“I suck,” Tobin says. “I really, really do. I don’t need to tell you how much I suck - you know that. I got overwhelmed because I felt like you were expecting something more than what I could give you, and I didn’t know what to do about that. Every time I tried to do something about it, every time i tried to text you ‘happy birthday,’ it’s like I froze up with the weight of these expectations.”

“I didn’t expect anything more from you,” Christen says, but it’s only as she says it that she realizes that it’s not true, and that maybe there’s a modicum of truth to what Tobin is saying. 

“Okay,” Tobin says anyway, dipping her head in acknowledgment. “Then I apologize for that. I’m sorry, Chris. Can I make it up to you?”

Christen’s throat burns with the inadequacy of it all, and she just stares straight ahead at the back of Alex’s house. She tries to pick out Kelley amongst the partygoers but can’t manage to, and wonders if she’s inside. When Tobin reaches out and touches her arm lightly, Christen flinches away but keeps her face forward. 

“Happy Birthday, Chris,” Tobin says calmly. “Did you have a good one?”

“Yeah,” Christen says thickly. “It was fine.”

“What can I do?” Tobin tries again. “How can I make it up to you? I know we talked about being friends, and I want to be a good friend to you.”

But therein lies the problem, and as Christen wishes she could have another chance to feel Tobin’s hand on her, any part of her, she realizes that she can’t keep being unfair to the both of them. She breathes in shakily, trying to figure out exactly how to say this. 

“I feel like I should tell you something,” she says. “But I also feel like I shouldn’t.”

“That’s okay,” Tobin says. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

It’s not what she wants to hear, and Christen wonders if Tobin has ever fought for anything since her life unraveled. 

She’s never fought for Christen, that’s for damn sure. 

*

_ September 2016 _

Christen picks Kelley up from practice, but it’s running late and it’s a nice day out, so when Kelley texts her to come watch on the bleachers, she obliges. Kelley jogs over when she sees Christen sit down, and attempts to gather her into a sweaty hug that Christen protests loudly. 

“We’re almost done,” Kelley promises. “I’m just showing Tobin the ropes the best I can, since she’s not exactly up and running yet. Would you mind if I asked her out to drinks with us?”

“Who?” Christen asks, nose wrinkling. “Kell, you promised - “

“I know, I know,” Kelley says hastily. “But look, she’s new and she’s going through some personal shit right now. Please?”

Apparently Kelley and Tobin know each other from old club soccer, and Christen is confused with exactly how Tobin landed an assistant coaching position shortly after the start of the school year, especially since she’s on crutches and clearly sporting some kind of injury, but she gets the impression that she shouldn’t pry. Tobin is quietly funny and charming as she fumbles her way through the evening, and Christen hates how much she finds herself staring at her, unable to look away from her strong jaw and soft eyes. When Kelley excuses herself to the restroom, Christen isn’t sure of what to say, but Tobin is. 

“Can I get your number?” she asks, and Christen is surprised by how forward she is, but she likes it. 

“Oh, sure,” Christen says. “Why?”

“Because you seem really cool,” Tobin says, and it seems honest. “I’d like to get to know you.”

They’re on the phone constantly. Texting, calling, Facetiming. Tobin isn’t much for social media but she will shoot back emoji reactions to everything Christen sends her on Instagram. It gets to a point where suddenly Christen doesn’t know how she filled her spare time before Tobin, who slots herself into every single bit of Christen’s life. Tobin sends her funny videos to watch and doesn’t talk about her past, and at first Christen doesn’t mind too much. She’s too busy showing up to practices to watch Tobin direct the girls, to watch the way she works well with Kelley, to load Tobin up into her car afterwards and giggle over her latest playlist on their way to grab food. She can’t exactly drive for the time being, so Christen becomes her personal chauffeur, and neither of them complain about it. 

Neither of them admit anything, but Christen can tell that it’s not just friendly. 

“You’re like, the coolest person I’ve ever known,” Tobin tells her one night in a McDonald’s drive through. She’s tired and practice had run late and Christen is planning on feeding her before taking her back home, something she’s been doing the last few weeks without ever actually going inside. 

It makes her feel like her heart is about to explode, and from there on out, it becomes a pretty constant feeling. 

*

_ October 2016 _

The girls keep winning, and Tobin keeps getting happier. 

When they’d first met she’d seemed guarded and pleasant, but every day they spend together feels like peeling back the layers of one of the most complex people Christen has ever come into contact with. Tobin is thoughtful and caring and good with the team, but laughs and jokes with them just as easily as she gently and firmly corrects them. She can’t physically join in yet but clearly knows what she’s talking about and the kids respect her, and one day when Christen is considering finally inviting Tobin to hang out in her apartment instead of sitting in her car in random parking lots for hours on end, instead of talking on the phone until they’re both dead tired and Christen needs to sleep before she knows she’ll turn into a zombie at work, she says something about it. 

“You seem like you know so much about soccer,” Christen says. “I’m assuming you’ve played? Well of course you have, but I feel like you were probably really good at it.” They’ve just finished eating - burgers, nothing fancy, but Tobin’s favorite - and they haven’t discussed what comes next, but the way Tobin reacts makes her forget about asking Tobin over to hers. 

She goes stony faced and shuts down and only speaks to ask Christen to take her home. The silent treatment that ensues is hurtful and unexpected, and a week later - a week in which Christen cried into her pillow and wondered how she was supposed to explain to Kelley why she could never show her face at the school again - Tobin texts her with what is clearly a peace offering. 

_ When we get back from our away game, will you take me to my check up for my knee? I value your opinion.  _

It’s not much, and if Christen were to view it all in hindsight, she’d see the flag as a red one instead of a white one, but at the time, it’s enough to make Christen agree. 

*

_ November 2016 _

They’d lost in Brazil. They’d lost a chance at medaling, but Tobin had lost a knee and her career. 

She sits Christen down on a bench outside of the doctor’s office, after a confusing check up during which Christen wished she had some experience in orthopedics so she could put the pieces together and understand exactly why Tobin kept smiling in the most hollow, forlorn manner possible. The doctor had clapped her on the shoulder before the end of the appointment, telling her she could probably lay off the crutches and to schedule her next MRI. 

Tobin doesn’t give her all the gory details, but she gives her what seems like enough. 

“It’s just hard for me,” she says, and when Christen looks over, she sees frustrated, glassy tears that refuse to fall. “If I hadn’t blown my knee like that, if I had been a second faster and avoided that tackle then - “

“No,” Christen says, and she wants to gather Tobin into a hug, but she is also too afraid to. “You can’t think like that.”

“ - Maybe we wouldn’t have lost,” Tobin keeps on, ignoring Christen. “I shouldn’t have played. I’d taken a small knock in the previous game.”

She doesn’t say much else, but she also doesn’t leave, and Christen holds onto that. 

*

_ December 2016 _

Tobin parcels out the bits of her life that she holds near and dear, and Christen respects that as much as she can. She does her best not to push, because when she does, it doesn’t go well. One of the first real fights they have - if it can even be called such - occurs when Christen brings up the Christmas present she’d gotten her. 

“I just want to know when I can give it to you,” Christen says into the phone speaker. Tobin is with her family for the holidays, and Christen is huddled up in her parents’ house, trying to avoid being overheard. “Why isn’t that okay?”

“I didn’t like, know we were supposed to do presents,” Tobin says. 

“Oh,” Christen says, and she feels dumb, but she likes Tobin so much that she tries not to let her own feelings get in the way. “That’s okay. I didn’t expect you to get me anything. I just saw something I thought you’d like.”

“I just can’t always give you what you’re asking for,” Tobin says, and it’s the most emotional that she’s ever sounded. “I want to, I do. But you have to understand, Chris, I’ve never known someone like you before. I don’t know how to do this. It’s really hard for me, okay?”

Christen is patient and understanding, and when Tobin spend New Years Eve sitting on the beach with her, feet in the sand with the wind in her hair as the fireworks go off, she thinks that she did the right thing. 

*

When Christen thinks about how she felt three years prior, sitting with Tobin and talking about everything and nothing (Tobin’s specialty, Christen thinks, considering that they spent over a year in each other’s pockets and ended up with nothing to show for it), she gets angry. She’s tired of playing it safe with Tobin, so when she blurts out how she’s feeling, she doesn’t care that she knows it won’t go over well. 

“I’m still in love with you,” Christen says, and she knows it doesn’t sound the way a declaration of love should. “And it’s stupid, I know. It’s been a long time and what happened between us is in the past. And I know I never told you that I was in love with you to begin with, but I’ve known I loved you ever since that New Years Eve on the beach, okay?”

“Chris,” Tobin starts to say, but Christen shakes her head and tries to hold back tears, and it’s been three long years of not knowing if she’s ever been loved back and she’s tired of pretending as though she feels any other way than she really does. 

“I feel like you loved me too,” Christen says, and she’s afraid that she’s going to cry - like, really, really, cry. Cry big fat crocodile tears in front of someone who’s never been particularly good at dealing with them. “But I don’t know. I’m sorry, Tobin. I never meant to hurt you, or break your heart, because Alex and Kelley say that I did but I’m really not sure. I swear that I thought you were done with me, okay? I wouldn’t have done it otherwise, I swear.”

“I know,” Tobin says quietly, a whisper, and Christen just wants to shake her to get a reaction out of her for once. 

“I’ve been so stupid,” Christen says, wiping at her eyes with her fingertips. “I thought that maybe you would love me too. But I’ve been pretending like being your friend is all I want when that isn’t true at all. I’ve never wanted to just be your friend, okay? So I’m sorry for lying or whatever. I don’t know, I guess I have to get over this. It’s not fair to either of us, I guess.”

When she’s done speaking, Tobin doesn’t say anything - when does she ever, really? - and it’s infuriating. 

“Fine,” Christen says, and she moves to get up. “Whatever, just let me pour my heart out and - “

“Will you please sit down?” Tobin asks, looking over at Christen, who pauses with her heels on ledge of the pool, poised to press herself into a standing position. “Will you please give me a chance to talk?”

Christen waits, balanced precariously on her heels until she finally relaxes back down until she’s fully sitting again. 

“I was never done with you,” Tobin says, and it’s the most meaningful thing she’s ever said. “I just couldn’t handle all of it, okay? It felt like you wanted to be in this full on relationship, but I’d never done that before. I didn’t know how to.”

“I know,” Christen says, hanging her head because it’s true. She’d known that Tobin hadn’t known what to do, known that both of them were too scared of rejection to make any kind of declarations, known that she’d ruined it all by being too impatient while simultaneously letting Tobin walk all over her. “I know you didn’t know what to do. But you wouldn’t let me help you.”

“I’d never really had a girlfriend before,” Tobin says, and Christen knows this she knows that Tobin had told her time and time again that Christen was the first girl she’d liked as much as she had. “And you wanted so much commitment but I didn’t know how to give that to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Christen says, and Tobin reaches out for her, and this time Christen lets her. It’s a stark contrast from how they used to be, with Christen always being the one to initiate contact, and she isn’t entirely sure that she likes it, but she’ll try it on for size and see how it feels. 

“I let down my team,” Tobin says, and she’s all choked up in a way that cuts Christen to the core, that makes her feel for her the same way she had when they’d been close. “I let down my country. I let myself down, and then every single day I spent with you, I knew that I was letting you down too. The only time I felt good at anything was on the field with those kids. They didn’t care that I was the reason my team got sent home in the quarterfinals. They didn’t care that I knew I’d never be the girlfriend you deserved. They didn’t - “

She breaks off abruptly, and Christen adjusts the touch Tobin has on her forearm so they can hold hands, and she knows that if she looked over, she’d see the same big, glassy brown eyes that she’d seen on a bench a few years before. 

For as much as things change, it’s funny how much they stay the same. 

*

_ August 2017 _

On the anniversary of that particular day, Christen does everything she can to keep Tobin’s mind off of it all. It’s different from how she would approach it - Christen would need to discuss it to death, or at least have several hours to herself to think it through - but at this point she’d like to think that she knows Tobin well enough to know what she needs. She takes them out for tacos and margaritas and then they go to the beach, and Christen surprises her with the dogs in the evening, and Tobin is the most delighted she’s been all day. 

“Are you excited to go back to work?” Christen asks that night, when she’s driving Tobin back to her place. She’s yawning and has to work in the morning, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her from giving Tobin what she needed to make it through the day. 

“We both know that my work isn’t just when the girls are at school,” Tobin reminds her. 

“No, I know,” Christen says. “But just like, are you ready for the grind of it all?”

“Yeah,” Tobin says, grinning fully. “I’m mostly excited to like, really get back in the thick of it. I think my knee is finally stable enough for me to try and show everyone a thing or two.”

“I’m excited for you,” Christen tells her, and it feels so good like this, and when she pulls up to Tobin’s, it’s clear that neither of them want to part. 

“Do you want to come in?” Tobin asks softly, and Christen really, really wants to. She’s been to the door, waited in the entrance of Tobin’s place while waiting for her to finish running around and gathering her things, but there is some kind of weird boundary there that the two of them have yet to cross, and now with Tobin asking her, Christen wants to say yes more than anything in the world. 

“I want to,” she says honestly, but then she’s yawning again and Tobin is giggling and she’s smiling and she hates that she can’t. “But I work in the morning.”

“I know,” Tobin says, “it’s just that I’m going to be so busy with practices from here on out, and I want to be able to spend as much time with you as I can.”

“We’ll make it work,” Christen says confidently.

She doesn’t know it’s all about to go downhill. 

*

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way,” Christen says, and she doesn’t want to get choked up too, but she really didn’t foresee the turn the conversation has taken, and she’s not prepared for this. She’d expected an emotionally stoic Tobin, unable to contribute much as she’s been unable to for a long time now, and she feels thrown. “I wish I could say I didn’t mean to, or that’s not what I was doing, but I think we both know that I’d be lying if I did. I did a lot of things I probably shouldn’t have.”

Tobin chuckles but it’s wet and Christen doesn’t know where to look, because she hasn’t been like this with her in years. She can’t decide if it feels foreign or familiar, and she has no idea where to go from here, but she does know that getting some of this out in the open can surely only help her in the long term. 

“I don’t even know if I can blame you for much of it,” Tobin says. “I don’t really want to try and place any blame here at all.”

“You can blame me if you need to,” Christen offers, and she’s not sure why she says it, but she knows exactly what Tobin can blame her for. 

*

_ September 2017 _

It’s been about a year, and Christen feels like she might as well not know Tobin at all anymore. 

She’s always working, or tired, or not up to talking. She’s always not hungry, having just eaten, or not in the mood to go out. Whatever it is, Christen feels like she’s grasping at straws here, clinging to something that’s disappearing faster than she can keep track of, and she doesn’t even bother picking her up from practice anymore. Tobin is more than capable of driving herself at this point, and on one unusually stormy day when she knows for a fact that practice has been cancelled (thanks for that, Kelley), she texts Tobin asking if they can meet up somewhere. 

_ You know I have practice, right? Talk to you later. _

Christen cries and cries and cries. She can’t sleep that night and ends up calling out of work, and when she finally works up the courage to call Tobin and confront her about the lie, she feels even worse than she did before. 

“Were you like, checking up on me?” Tobin says slowly. 

Really, it’s a miracle that she answered the phone at all. 

“No,” Christen says. “Kelley just mentioned that practice was cancelled because of all the lightning. I thought maybe it was a nice open time for us to hang out. I haven’t seen you in weeks, you know. I know you’re busy, but still.”

“I’ve been busy,” Tobin echoes. 

“Well, you weren’t busy with practice,” Christen persists, so close to crying again. “So what were you doing?”

“I was helping some of the girls in the weight room,” Tobin says vaguely. “Is there something wrong with that?”

That’s all that Christen get out of her. Tobin is on lockdown and Christen doesn’t know why, doesn’t know what she did wrong, not when things had been going so well between them. She doesn’t know what she did, but she spends far too many sleepless nights trying to figure it out. 

*

“We both did a lot of things that contributed to how everything went down,” Tobin says, and she seems to be slowly gathering herself. “I kind of went into a really dark place, and instead of dealing with it, I just ignored it.”

“I tried to be there for you,” Christen says, and they’ve never talked about this before, and as cathartic as she wants it to feel, it also burns. “You wouldn’t let me, though. I just wanted to help and be there for you.”

“I know,” Tobin says, and she takes back her hand from Christen, tucking it between her thighs. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to apologize,” Christen says, pushing her hair off her neck. It’s winter, which means that the weather is nice and slightly cool outside, but something about this conversation is making her feel overheated. 

“Then what do you want?” Tobin asks, and Christen can feel the way Tobin’s eyes turn on her. 

“For you to be honest with me, for once,” Christen says. “I was just honest with you.”

Tobin takes a deep breath, and Christen knows this won’t be getting easier for either of them. 

*

_ October 2017 _

Tobin tells Christen that she’s trying. 

“I’m trying,” she pleads over the phone. “But I’m trying to DD for the girls, and I know the whole bar thing isn’t really your scene, and your work schedule is just so unpredictable.”

“I can’t help my schedule,” Christen says, stinging from the remark. “You know that.”

“No, I know,” Tobin says hastily. “Look, I’ve got to go, but text me, okay?”

“Okay,” Christen says, feeling defeated. 

“I miss you,” Tobin says softly into the phone. “I’ve been bad lately, I know. But I really do miss all of our good times together.”

“I miss you too,” Christen says, and it’s small but hopeful, and maybe Tobin is trying. 

That’s what she has to believe, anyway. 

Because the alternative is much worse. 

*

“I don’t know what you want me to be honest about.”

*

_ November 2017 _

Tobin refusing to find a way to make Thanksgiving work is the last thing Christen can handle. To her, it says that things between them are over. 

Things are over before they ever really got a chance to begin. 

Kelley rubs Christen’s back and listens as she cries and doesn’t ask any questions, and they haven’t seen each other in months, not since Kelley’s birthday party, but it doesn’t seem to matter. 

“I’m sorry,” Christen says, lip wobbling ferociously. “I’ve been an awful friend.”

“Shh,” Kelley says, tugging her back in for another hug. “It’s okay. We’re best friends, Christen. It’s going to take a lot more than this to get rid of me.”

“I just feel so horrible,” Christen says, and she feels like she’s about to start sobbing again. “She never even liked me but I liked her so much and I completely ignored you - “

“We’ve all done it, at one time or another,” Kelley tells her. “One day, I’ll do it to you, and you’ll have to be okay with it. Okay?”

She knows it’s meant to make her laugh, but she can’t manage even a smile. 

*

Christen feels like she could just about tear her hair out. 

“Tell me how you really feel,” she says, and she’s got nothing left that she hasn’t given to Tobin already, so she goes ahead and lets their eyes meet. “Tell me how you really feel about me, for once.”

*

_ December 2017 _

There’s a travel nurse and she’s funny and so obviously into Christen, and it’s exactly what she needs. It’s nothing serious and she’ll be gone in six months, but she isn’t afraid of Christen’s apartment and makes her feel sexy and secure. It’s a rebound, and Christen makes no secret of that, and she doesn’t seem to care one iota. 

Christen makes the mistake of telling Kelley, and when Tobin’s name flashes across her phone for the first time in almost two months, she feels her heart race and adrenaline spike. Against her better judgment, she answers. 

“I thought I meant something to you,” Tobin cries, and Christen begs and pleads for forgiveness, but it’s too late. The damage is already done. 

“You haven’t called me in forever,” she tries to fight. “You wouldn’t even see me. What was I supposed to think?”

“You were supposed to be there for me,” Tobin says, and she’s full on sobbing at this point, and as much as Christen wants to feel for her, she feels manipulated. 

“I was there,” Christen says, and when Tobin hangs up, claiming that she can’t handle this, Christen lets her go. 

After all, wasn’t Tobin the one who walked away first?

*

“You’re the only person I’ve ever been in love with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the nice feedback on the last chapter, so here's to hoping this lived up to everyone's expectations!


	10. thank u, next

January is not a fun month for Christen. At least, the first half isn’t. 

She spends the first week or so doing a whole lot of the same things she did a couple of years prior - crying into her pillow, in the shower, in her car. At first she leans into it and lets the tears fall as they come, and when Kelley texts to ask if she’s okay, Christen doesn’t answer. She knows that Kelley more than likely doesn’t want to hear her cry about Tobin, and that’s fine. Christen gets that, she knows that she’s been crying over Tobin for a very long time, and she understands that Kelley is fed up with it all. 

It’s all fine, and Christen understands. She would probably be the same way if her friend had been crying over the same person for years. It might make her cry a little bit harder, but then she misses Kelley and the way she makes her laugh, and she hasn’t heard from Tobin since a couple of days after New Years, and maybe that more than anything shakes her awake. 

So Christen stops crying. 

She doesn’t want to say that it’s easy because it’s not. It’s really hard, and she picks up a lot of extra shifts at work to distract herself from how much her heart feels like it has literally been ripped in two for the second time - at least. Her coworkers are so nice and her overtime gets approved almost immediately, and when Julie finishes her nurse practitioners program and scores a job at another hospital, Christen chews at the tip of her pen as she deliberates over the sign-up list for a send-off activity: wine and painting. 

Kelley would tell her to go, Christen knows. She would tell her to relax and enjoy herself and stop thinking so hard about someone who doesn’t deserve her thoughts, and Christen clicks her pen a handful of times before writing her name down on the sheet. She knows she has time to back out before she has to give Heather the twenty dollars for the reservation, but something about this feels comforting, like hanging out with people who have no idea about Tobin’s existence will somehow increase the distance between the two of them to what it used to be, to what Christen needs it to be. 

Because honestly, Christen thinks when asking for cash back while checking out at the grocery store a few days later, this isn’t good for her anymore. It’s a horrible feeling, to let go of something she never really left behind, but she feels like now it’s more necessary than ever. She’d been holding out hope for entirely too long, far longer than she should have, and while at first she thought that getting Tobin alone and having a talk with her about what had happened would be the first step to fixing everything between them, she now realizes that that wasn’t exactly the case. 

They’d had that talk. Christen had said her piece and let Tobin say everything she had to say. Christen had poked and prodded and asked questions and stopped worrying about what would happen if she pushed Tobin too far. Christen had finally gotten more than she could have asked for, and the horrible realization she’d come to when all was said and done, was that it just wasn’t enough. 

Or at least, it wasn’t enough to bring them together again. Not the way Christen had thought she wanted. It makes her wonder if maybe she’d been clinging to some idealistic representation of a relationship that had never existed between them and never would, but instead only lived in the spaces of Christen’s mind during the times things had been good between the two of them. It was slightly disconcerting to make that realization, to look back on what Tobin had said on New Years and see that even if neither of them had ever talked about it or admitted it, whether to each other or just to themselves, that maybe they just weren’t compatible. 

There weren’t going to be any romantic weekend getaways for the two of them, with Christen asking for days off and working around soccer season. There weren’t going to be any cute domestic sleepovers at Christen’s apartment where the two of them giggled and kissed against the countertops while chocolate chip cookies baked in the oven. There wasn’t going to be any meeting of the families, with Christen boarding a plane and indulgently letting Tobin have the window seat as they shared snacks and headphones to watch in-flight movies. 

There wasn’t going to be anything, a concept that Christen forces herself to get acquainted with as she heads to the gym and goes hard on the treadmill, letting the fury within her fuel her to a new personal record. They’d tried to come together for a while and in the end it hadn’t worked for a reason, and instead of accepting that, Christen had spent two years in denial. When she sits in the locker room afterwards, wiping her face free of sweat and running a hand over her frizzing hair, she is angry: angry about wasted time, angry over all the energy she’s expended over worrying about the state of things between the two of them, angry over the way she’d clung to the belief that if she just cared enough, if Tobin maybe loved her, if they had just told each other how they felt, that it would have been enough and things would have worked out. 

She welcomes the anger. It feels so good to feel something other than the same sadness and denial and hope, and recognizing that nothing she could have done would have made a difference is what pushes her onward, on to a night with her coworkers, armed with a bottle of pinot grigio and her favorite winter coat. She arrives early, parking with a view through the windows of the storefront and resolving to wait until a couple of the others show up. 

But then her phone buzzes with a text, and Christen thinks that maybe it’s Ali, asking her if she’s arrived yet or something of the sort, but it’s not. It’s Kelley, and it makes Christen’s heart cool a bit, slightly tempering the fiery state of her emotions for the time being. 

_ Haven’t heard from you in a while, hope you’re okay. Let me know if you have a day to grab breakfast or coffee soon. I love you.  _

Christen decides to text her back in the morning, backing out of the thread into her main messages screen, and down at the bottom is her conversation with Tobin. She hasn’t ventured into it since the last message she received, and letting their conversation sit there is the one weakness she’ll allow herself in this time. She can still see the message Tobin had sent her last, a couple of days after their talk, and it’s bittersweet to look at - more bitter than sweet, and probably a big part of the reason why Christen has yet to delete the thread yet. It’s too hard for her to look at, even just to swipe over. 

_ I’m sorry I can’t be the person you want me to be. I want to be that person too. Please know that I would if I could.  _

She doesn’t like it, not only because it doesn’t feel particularly true, but also because it reminds her of the way they’d left things. After Tobin’s confession, Christen hadn’t exactly know what to say. They were the words she’d always wanted to hear and yet they’d seemed unexpectedly tainted, so she’d asked for Tobin to elaborate. 

“Like, are you still in love with me?” Christen had asked, her heart pounding and her palms sweaty. “Or is this just completely in the past for you? Did I mess up that badly?”

“I never said you messed up,” Tobin had said, slightly defensive, and Christen should have known that anything good between them, no matter how brief, was just too good to be true. 

“You basically shut me out of your life,” Christen had said angrily, thinking of the aftermath. “You sent one word answers for so long, until I stopped bothering because what was the point? You just were too cowardly to actually cut the cord. What else was I supposed to think, besides that you were punishing me for trying to move on from something that you didn’t want to exist?”

Tobin hadn’t had anything to say to that, and when Christen had gotten up and snatched up her shoes, Tobin had only looked at her with a bit of a broken expression. 

“I’m so stupid for thinking that this would ever work,” Christen had said, tears stinging her eyes. She had wanted to get out of there immediately, if only to keep from feeling even worse when facing the inevitable realization that not even her tears could get much of a reaction from Tobin. “Whatever. Have a nice life, Tobin. I’ll probably love you forever, honestly. But whatever this is between us,” - she’d motioned between them, a tortured laugh catching in the back of her throat - “isn’t worth it. Not even whatever weird version of friendship we’ve been going for.”

“I do want to be your friend,” Tobin had insisted wildly. 

“I don’t think you know what you want,” Christen had told her, and it had felt like the most honest thing either of them had said all night. “I hope you figure it out, and I wish you the best of luck in that. But I’m not going to stick around and wait for you to figure it out.”

She’d whirled away after that, feeling strangely empowered in a way that she hadn’t anticipated. She’d gotten almost everything she’d come for - an apology, a confession of love, more emotional vulnerability than she could have asked for - and yet it hadn’t been enough in the end. It had taken until the morning for it to really hit her, for the sense of finality about it all to slam into her while she was waiting for her parents to call. Things between them seemed finished, over for good, and she’d gotten as much closure as she ever could from someone who didn’t seem to be able to give herself anything even resembling closure. 

And then she’d gotten the text, and Christen had known. It was all over, and she was going to have to actually deal with that. 

A tap on her window brings her back to the present. She jumps a bit and sees Ali grinning at her, waving like a crazy person. It’s a welcome distraction, very welcome indeed, and Christen doesn’t even take a moment to mentally gather herself before she’s gathering up the bottle of wine and her purse and pushing out of her car. 

“I’m so glad you came!” Ali squeals, and Christen smiles at her as warmly as she can. 

“Well, you know,” Christen says as they walk up and into the painting studio. “I figure it’s the least I can do to celebrate Julie, show her how proud we all are.”

“She’s going to be great,” Ali says, beaming. “I just hope she doesn’t forget us little people and remembers to visit sometimes. Not all of us want to go back to school for two years!”

“God, I know,” Christen says, and the laugh she lets out feels easy. “I don’t miss school at all.”

There are a good handful of them there, and Christen almost feels overwhelmed for a minute - like she should be back home in bed, crying over Tobin and wondering how long it’s been since she’s eaten anything - but then Becky is offering to take her wine and pour it into one of the million tiny clear plastic cups floating around, and Ali insists that Christen sit next to her, and they’re all painting their own version of a sunset with some dolphins jumping in the background, and everything is okay. 

Everything feels okay, and while that’s somewhat shocking considering everything she’s been going through, it’s also incredibly grounding. 

Christen is going to be okay, without Tobin, and that in and of itself is a revelation that feels enormously important. 

So she smiles and paints and laughs when Ali accidentally makes her sun more red than orange, trying to reassure her that it almost looks better that way. 

“Ask me to titrate some cardiac meds, and I’m your gal,” Ali says, laughing and leaning back on her stool to tilt her head and look at her handiwork. “Ask me to paint something orange instead of red orange? You might want to find someone else. Like Heather! How is she so good at this?”

“Maybe because I’m actually painting and not drinking,” Heather says from Ali’s other side, her face concentrated intently on the tip of her paintbrush as it sweeps over her canvas. “I’m pretty sure Ash isn’t coming to pick you up tonight, so you might want to take it easy.”

Christen laughs at that - she enjoys Heather a lot more than she ever expected herself capable of, considering that she’s definitely in charge of her at work and almost her boss in a way, but she’s not complaining. She’d take this over the alternative any day. 

“I’m painting,” Ali says, gesturing with the hand of hers that’s currently holding her plastic cup of wine. “And Christen has been drinking, and her painting is still better than mine.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Christen says with a small smile, “but I’ve only refilled this once.”

“We should do this more often,” Becky says from Christen’s other side, where she’s predictably having no problem at all following the instructions to a tee, generating a near replica of the painting they’re trying to imitate. “With you too, Julie. Don’t think we won’t miss you.”

“You guys are the best,” Julie says from down the row a bit. “Honestly.”

“She doesn’t even need the extra money she’ll be earning,” Ali says out of the corner of her mouth. “I mean, you’ve seen the rock she’s got on her finger.”

Christen giggles, and she’s not tipsy and she’s pleased with her painting skills, but she is feeling lighter and happier than she has since before her birthday. 

“If only we all could be so lucky,” Ali sighs dramatically, picking up her brush again. “Do you think I can make some money painting on the side? Give it to Ashlyn with directions to the nearest Tiffany’s?”

“Might be worth a shot,” Christen muses, pausing to take a sip from her cup. “I mean, there are worse painters out there. My friend slaps a rainbow heart on a canvas and calls it a day, if that’s any indication.”

She doesn’t even realize what she’s said until Ali is replying. 

“Does your friend make any money off of her paintings?” Ali asks, a little too serious. “Because I can do rainbow hearts, too.”

Christen does her best to shake it off - it’s strange to refer to Tobin as a friend, because that’s definitely not what they are to each other, but she wouldn’t know what else to call her. 

“No,” Christen says, taking another sip before setting her cup down, nearly slashing her yellow paint-covered brush across her ocean in the process. “It’s more of a hobby for her than anything.”

“Damn,” Ali says, wiggling in her seat and refocusing her attention on her painting. “Okay. I’m going to do well here. I told Ash she needs to hang this in the house, so I’ve got to make it good.”

It’s not quite a funny feeling that sticks with Christen for the rest of the evening, but something feels vaguely off. She thinks that maybe it’s just because she’s with a group of people that she doesn’t spend much time with, but when they’re all showing off their finished pictures and sobering up slightly before preparing to drive home, she finds herself alone with Heather for a second, and thinks about how much she misses Kelley. 

She’s definitely got to text her back in the morning. 

“God, I could really go for some pizza right now,” Heather says, rubbing at her stomach. “Hey - would you want to go grab a slice? I know this place nearby.”

“Oh,” Christen says, surprised but not at all unpleased. “Um, rain check, maybe? I’ve got work in the morning and totally need to catch up on my sleep.”

She doesn’t mention that the reason she needs to catch up on her sleep is because she spent so many nights crying over a girl who probably doesn’t deserve a single one of her tears. 

“Of course,” Heather says cheerfully. “Yeah, of course.”

“Another time, though,” Christen says. “I would love that.”

It’s a step forward, a step she’s never really bothered to take before, and one that emboldens her enough to lower her voice and lean into Heather in a way she never would if she didn’t have a glass of wine in her. 

“Can I ask you a question? About something kind of personal?”

Heather looks at Christen with concern. 

“Yeah, is everything okay?” she asks. “You’re not like, quitting, are you?”

“No,” Christen says. “Not, it’s not work at all. Actually - never mind. It’s okay.”

“Hey,” Heather says with a frown, catching Christen’s arm as she goes to turn away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Christen says, shaking her head and trying to ignore the embarrassment, keep it from crushing her. “Yeah, I’m alright. I just thought - I maybe needed an opinion on something. And you’re pretty impartial.”

Heather studies her for a moment. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to get pizza with me?” Heather offers. “Or even just ice cream? I think the place a few doors down might still be open.”

Christen’s hands are shaking and she feels sick with nerves. She’s not used to spending time with these people outside of work, especially not as of late, but Heather is always nice and funny and seems like she has a good head on her shoulders. So Christen says goodbye to everyone and ditches her drying painting in her car before ordering two scoops of chocolate in a cup and sitting outside with Heather. It’s cold and windy out but the dark of the hour feels more suitable than the fluorescent interior of the ice cream ship - especially for what Christen talks about. Besides, Heather doesn’t seem to mind very much as she licks at her coffee-flavored cone. 

“So,” Heather asks, once they’ve settled in and agreed that it’s been a good night. “What’s up?”

There’s something about her demeanor, so nonchalant yet straightforward, that Christen finds intimidating for a second before she forces herself to get over it. 

“I just kind of wondered if I could get your input on a situation,” Christen says, pressing the back of her spoon into her ice cream. “You don’t have to say anything of course, and if I’m overstepping here, you can tell me, but I just don’t know who else to ask who doesn’t already have an opinion on the situation.”

“Christen,” Heather says, “it’s okay. I know I’m your charge nurse at the hospital, but not out here. Out here we’re just two friends getting some ice cream.”

Christen takes a deep breath before continuing with what she wants to ask. 

“I kind of dated someone a while ago,” Christen says, and she’s uncomfortable, but the more she talks, the freer she feels. 

“Kind of?” Heather questions through a full mouth. 

“There were feelings,” Christen says slowly, struggling to make sure that she describes this accurately. “But nothing physical. We were both too scared to talk about it. But it went on for a while.”

Heather nods and keeps at her cone. 

“But then we grew apart, and I thought things were over.”

“Why?” Heather asks. “Why did you think things were over?”

“Because she barely talked to me,” Christen says, and she watches for the flicker of surprise in Heather’s eyes that never comes. She doesn’t discuss her personal life at work, not really, but Heather doesn’t seem fazed in the least, and that’s comforting. “Things changed and got really bad. And I’m trying to make my peace with that.”

“Okay,” Heather says, and she seems quieter. “That’s really brave of you.”

Christen takes a moment to press a plastic spoonful of ice cream to her tongue, letting it melt and letting the emotions pass until she feels like she can keep going.

“That’s not the part I’m questioning,” Christen says, doing her best to sound sure of herself. “I just - I kind of dated someone to get over her.”

“A rebound,” Heather supplies helpfully.

“Yes,” Christen says, somewhat relieved. “That’s normal, right?”

“I mean, I’ve been with my husband for entirely too long, so I’m not sure I can give a valid opinion on that,” Heather says. “Is that your question?”

She must sense her hesitation, because Heather scrambles to amend what she’s said. 

“I mean, it’s human nature, isn’t it?” she asks rhetorically. “Is that what you’re asking? I’m sure most people would say that a rebound is normal.”

“I just, I guess she was upset with me about it,” Christen says, her eyes blinking furiously while staring down at her ice cream. “And never really seemed to forgive me for it. And while I was dating that other girl, she - “

Christen doesn’t know how to explain this - the torture of the almost that had existed between her and Tobin, the magnitude of her feelings despite that almost, the immense regret and self-loathing she’s been surviving with, and the anger she’s been experiencing for the last month or so, since realizing that maybe a life without Tobin might be better for her than a life with her. 

So she doesn’t explain it. Christen just lets the tears start leaking out of her eyes, down her nose and into the corners of her mouth, where they taste salty and contrast with the chocolate that’s sunk into her taste buds. She doesn’t explain it to Heather - because really, how could she? - but does let Heather shift her chair closer and wrap an arm around her shoulders. Heather doesn’t look at her, instead still intently focusing on her ice cream cone, but she tugs Christen into her side and lets her silently cry and shake as her trembling hands continue to drag her spoon through her rapidly liquidizing ice cream. Maintaining any sort of composure at this point is useless, but Christen breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth and lets her anger fuel her. 

Heather doesn’t speak, instead waiting for Christen. 

“Did I betray her?” Christen asks, and she does her best to let her words forge a path ahead for her. “Did I do something wrong?”

It isn’t until Heather speaks that Christen realizes that she was expecting a certain response - she was expecting to be told that she had done nothing wrong, that Tobin had been out of line, and that Christen can now move on knowing that there was nothing she could have done differently to perhaps salvage things between them. Because Christen has been clinging to that last tiny bit of hope, whether she’d realized it or not. She’s been clinging to the idea that if she’d done something different, two years prior, then maybe she wouldn’t have ruined things irreparably and would have been able to find some kind of happiness with Tobin. 

Heather doesn’t give her what she’s looking for. 

“It doesn’t matter if you did something wrong,” Heather said instead, wise and matter of fact, like someone who knows what a stable long-term relationship looks like, like someone who is sure of herself and her relationships in life. “What happened, happened. It’s in the past. And you have to make peace with that and move forward. You have to forgive yourself, Christen, regardless of whether you did anything wrong or not. Because you have to live with yourself, and that is going to be a lot easier if you’re able to love yourself while doing it.”

Christen pushes her cup away. It’s just a bunch of melted chocolate liquid at this point, and she tries to straighten up, but Heather just tugs her in tighter. 

“Okay?” she asks forcefully, and it isn’t what Christen thought she’d hear, and maybe it’s not even what she wanted to hear, but it certainly feels like what she needed to hear. “It doesn’t matter if you betrayed her, or if she was upset. Is she still in your life?”

Christen stumbles over her words a bit as Heather finishes off her cone, crunching loudly. 

“Not really,” she says awkwardly. “I kind of - I thought we could be friends. But we couldn’t. I couldn’t.”

“Christen,” Heather says, and she’s gentler, but just a touch. “We have to be kind to ourselves. Otherwise we can’t live with ourselves.”

“Okay,” Christen says, wiping at her eyes, the tears feeling slightly frozen on her eyelashes. She’s sure she’s got mascara smudged around her eyes, but she can’t care very much about that right now. “Okay.”

“It’s not your fault,” Heather says forcefully. “It’s not. I know you. You’re thoughtful, and kind, and yeah, an excellent employee, but you’re more than that. Look, I want you to be able to come to me about this stuff, okay? I want to be here for you.”

“Thank you,” Christen says, and she’s sniffling tearfully, but she feels like maybe Heather is onto something. “So what - I just move on?”

“Yeah,” Heather says simply. “You stop beating yourself up over the past, and you learn to let it go. You move on.”

“It doesn’t matter if I did something wrong,” Christen says tentatively, trying the words on to see how they feel. 

“Would it matter to her if she’d done something wrong?” Heather asks, and Christen opens her mouth to respond, leaning out of Heather’s grip, because defending Tobin is like second nature to her. “No, think about it. Would she care? Would she really, really care, that she’d hurt you? Would she make it better and feel as torn up about it as you do? Or - ask yourself this - would it matter to her if she knew that you were this upset about hurting her?”

Christen doesn’t have anything to say to that, and Heather just shrugs a little as she leans back into her chair. 

“No,” Christen says. “No, it wouldn’t matter to her.”

“Then don’t let it matter to you,” Heather tells her. “Because if you do, it will end up killing you.”

Christen thinks of the nausea-inducing anxiety, of the wide-awake nights, of the times she’s crying until she’s felt seriously dehydrated, and believes Heather. 

She’s angry, but she’s also tired of hating herself for what she’d done. 

So she resolves to leave it behind. 

*

“What is she doing here?”

Christen doesn’t mean to be a bitch about it, but her eyes automatically narrow and she grips her water bottle tightly. She can tell that there’s no way out of this, that she’s going to be stuck feeling like a third wheel for the entirety of this outing, but there’s nothing she’ll be able to do to convince Kelley to send the blonde-ponytailed girl beside her away. 

“Hi,” she waves with a half-smile on her face. “I’m Emily Sonnett. We’ve met before.”

“I know who you are,” Christen says, and she doesn’t mean to snap, but the expression that Sonnett shoots Kelley has “yikes” written all over it to the point where she sighs and forces herself to get a grip. “Kelley. A little warning would have been nice. This isn’t how I envisioned spending my Saturday morning.”

“I know, I know,” Kelley says hastily. “But I knew if I told you, you’d cancel and tell me you need at least three days notice before a chance of plans, and I wanted to see you. So sue me! I mean, this is just yoga.”

“Exactly,” Christen exclaims, readjusting the pink mat she has tucked under her armpit. “This is yoga! This is supposed to be something we do together! Just the two of us!”

“We haven’t done this in like, nine months,” Kelley says, rolling her eyes. “Please. We’re literally about to go sit in silence in a dark room for ninety minutes.”

“Ninety minutes?” Sonnett asks in a panicked voice. “You did not tell me this was going to be this long.”

“What, do you have some studying to do?” Kelley asks sarcastically. “Would you rather be doing that instead? Please. I knew you wouldn’t come if I told you how long this was.”

“Ninety minutes,” Sonnett says, shaking her head. “Why am I here again?”

“Because yoga is good for the soul,” Kelley says determinedly. “And both of you could use some good vibes for your souls.”

“You have no idea what condition my soul is in, or what it needs,” Christen tells her, and she wishes she could cross her arms against her chest, but the bulky yoga mat is kind of hindering that particular maneuver, and she briefly regrets springing for the super-thick model. 

“My soul is great,” Sonnett announces. “Never been better, really.”

“Shut up,” Kelley says to the both of them. “If the two of you shut up and behave and can agree on a place to get lunch after this, it’ll be my treat.”

Sonnett shuts up pretty quickly after that. Christen, on the other hand, once they’ve been let into the studio and have found spots towards the back of the room, takes a moment to talk to Kelley while Sonnett takes one last trip to the bathroom. 

“She’s a child,” Christen tells her. Kelley painstakingly adjusts the angles of her mat, smoothing it out and pointedly avoiding Christen’s eyes. 

“She’s not,” Kelley says stubbornly, and Christen isn’t about to start taking this very seriously at all, but she can tell that for the time being, she isn’t going to be able to convince Kelley to do anything other than she wants to do. “And it was either this or stay behind and help her with the project she has due Monday, so just be glad I chose the lesser of two evils.”

Christen exhales heavily. 

“At least I tell you some things,” Kelley shoots at her. “You still haven’t told me anything about what happened with Tobin.”

“Do you even want to know?” Christen asks, and the beat that passes between them is enough of an answer for her. “Look, I know you’re tired of it all. I’m trying to respect that.”

Kelley looks taken aback. 

“That’s very...mature of you,” Kelley says, momentarily stunned. “Alright, fair enough.”

“If you genuinely want to know,” Christen says, as Sonnett comes back and takes her spot next to Kelley, “then we can talk about it. I’m not hiding it any more - I’m just not trying to make a big deal out of it.”

Sonnett doesn’t say anything, but her curious gaze is obvious. Christen ignores her. 

“You haven’t told her,” Christen says, and Kelley shakes her head, knowing exactly what Christen is talking about. 

“I learned my lesson last time around,” Kelley says, and she sounds rather sour. “I learned my lesson about blabbing about things that aren’t my business. Alex asked me what happened, you know. After you left her party like that. I only told her about what I did, since I got the impression that Tobin might not have told her the entire story. She’s a bit of an unreliable narrator.”

“That’s very mature of you,” Christen says, echoing Kelley’s earlier words. 

Kelley shrugs and lays down on her mat. 

“Tobin wouldn’t have known if it wasn’t for me,” Kelley says. “I mean, don’t you wonder about what would have happened with you two if I had never said anything? You guys might have actually been able to pick up where you left off.”

“Wait,” Sonnett says suddenly, her eyes wide as she looks at Christen. “You and Tobin - “

“Thanks,” Christen says, looking at Kelley, but there’s no bite behind it. Not that Christen is ever really one to be on the offensive. “What happened to learning your lesson?”

“Shit,” Kelley says loudly, earning the three of them several dirty looks and a couple of shushes. “Shit, sorry.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Sonnett says quickly. “Sorry, I’ll just put my hands over my ears and not hear anything.”

“You’re fine,” Christen says with a sigh. “I don’t really care. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine,” Kelley says, her eyes closed as the opening gong sounds throughout the studio. “Let’s just fucking do this, okay?”

The instructor at the front of the room is definitely glaring at them, so Christen just slinks down onto her mat to start with her breathing. 

It’s been a long time since Christen did this, but it empties her mind and feels good for her soul, and if the only negative thought she has during the entire thing is that she hates Kelley for being right - well, she can live with that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes things have to get a little worse before they get better. last chapter was about the halfway point, so this isn't the end. 
> 
> that being said - you had the most amazing response to the last chapter! thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read and review. let me know what you think of this one if you can, i'm really interested to hear what you think about the progression of things.


	11. No Tears Left To Cry

“I bet you ten bucks you won’t do it.”

Christen scoffs in response, sitting up straight in the booth they’ve nestled themselves into. The place they’re in is a little dingier than she would normally go for (it almost reminds her of the bar she’d gone to with Kelley and her team after the semi-final), but she’s been actively working on putting herself out of her comfort zone, and this fits the bill. Besides, Heather’s husband apparently knows one of the managers and their first round of shots had been free, so she isn’t about to start complaining. 

“That ten bucks will pay for the drink I’ll be ordering,” Christen tells Ali, who is sitting across from her with a grin on her face and her girlfriend Ashlyn’s arm around her shoulders. “Nice try, but no.”

“Twenty bucks,” Ashlyn suggests, looking between Ali and Christen. “Twenty bucks, and we’ll pay for your drink.”

Christen groans loudly, wiping her palms on the rough denim covering her thighs. 

“You’re just making me do this because I’m the only single one,” she says accusingly, turning on Heather. “Aren’t you going to stop them?”

“No,” Heather says, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she sips at her drink. “I’m actually very intrigued here. Besides - I don’t think you’ll need your drink paid for. You’re cute, and that bartender has been eyeing you since we walked in the door.”

“That’s not true,” Christen denies, shaking her head. “She has not.”

“She has, though,” Ali says, nodding rapidly. 

“Come on,” Ashlyn says, egging her on. “Let us vicariously live through you a little.”

“I hope you’re not missing your single days,” Ali says, her glare verging on murderous, but Ashlyn is too busy reaching for her wallet and counting out a few bills. 

“Do it,” she says, offering them to Christen. “Come on, it’s easy money.”

Christen sighs and looks around the table, where the girls all look way too eager for her to go up to the bar and make a poor attempt at flirting with the admittedly rather attractive bartender. It’s hard to say no to them, and while it seems like such a ridiculous thing to be proud of, she knows it’s exactly the type of thing that Kelley would be proud of her for doing. She looks at Heather one last time - Heather, who at this point has heard enough about what Christen’s life has been like the last few years to go out of her way to encourage this kind of behavior regardless of the stakes involved - and pushes herself up and into the foot traffic, pressing herself into the edge of their table to avoid being mowed over by some particularly rowdy young men. 

“If I end up making a total fool of myself,” Christen starts, counting the money before slipping it into her back pocket, “then you owe me milkshakes at work every time we’re on shift together. For the rest of March.”

“Deal,” Ali says readily. “It all goes straight to your ass, anyway.”

“Thanks,” Christen says with a grimace as she begins walking away. “Thanks a lot.”

“She means that in a good way!” Heather calls after her, and Christen tries not to smile too big as she winds her way between tables to reach the bar. 

The hospital milkshakes are on another level, the chocolate flavor especially, so Christen purposely elbows her way up to the counter a ways down, where she’s certain the bartender in question will still be forced to attend to her, but it could take a while. She waits patiently, thinking about taking out her phone and texting Kelley while she waits, just to have something to do with her hands. But then in the most unexpected fashion, the couple to her left decide to back away and leave a gap beyond which someone stands who causes her to do a double take. 

It’s Tobin, in her leather jacket with her hair down. She looks as pretty as ever and is looking right back at Christen. 

She braces herself, fingers gripping the edge of the bar tightly in anticipation of the sickening anxiety that’s sure to come. The suspense is almost worse than what really happens, which is nothing - nothing happens, not even as they continue to stare at each other. All that Christen feels is a solid pang in the center of her chest, almost like an immense amount of space has been filled up without the expectation of ever being needed again. Instead of feeling nauseous, instead of breaking out into a cold sweat, rather than experience any of the things Christen would have expected during a moment like this, she blinks calmly and does nothing. 

It’s almost troubling, how she feels nothing. For a moment she wonders if perhaps she’s swung the pendulum of her emotions too far to the other end of it all, if she’s made herself numb to too much in her quest to move on with her life and achieve a higher level of emotional stability. She digs her fingers in before releasing, letting her hands drop to her sides, and flexes her fingers out wide as Tobin shoots her the smallest, most tentative smile. 

But before Christen can do anything, before she can run through all of the available options, before she can ask herself what Kelley or Heather would tell her to do - the attractive bartender is in front of her and asking her what she would like. 

“Oh, hi,” Christen says in surprise, aware that her reaction is a bit delayed. She smiles as she contemplates what she wants to order - her best smile, the one that she knows is a little bit dazzling, because Ali has taken to telling her so much more often than necessary. “Can I get a vodka cranberry, please?”

The bartender smiles back, and really, Christen isn’t interested, but she does feel a sense of pride as she’s told that it will be ready for her in a second. Her eyes follow the woman as she moves to collect a glass and pour the drink for her, and when it’s pushed against the bartop, their fingers seem to brush for just a second. 

“Thanks,” Christen says, and they lock eyes for just a moment, and this is purely for fun and to entertain her friends, but she would swear that the bartender winks at her just a tiny bit before straightening up and pulling her hand back. 

“No problem,” she tells Christen, wiping her condensation-wet hands on a towel that she then stashes somewhere behind the bar. 

“How much do I owe you?” Christen asks, reaching in her back pocket for Ashlyn’s money. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she gets told. “It’s on the house.”

And Christen knows that really, this doesn’t mean anything and that her glass is mostly full of cheap cranberry juice cocktail, but it’s the principle of the matter that has her pulling apart the bills and handing one over anyway.

“Well, thank you for this,” Christen says, and she knows she’s paying for good service more than anything as she gets shot another smile, so she isn’t bothered at all when the bartender pockets the cash before tending to her next customer. 

Besides, she doesn’t want anything to come from this. Sure, the bartender can easily be considered good looking - if tall, blonde, and tattooed were her type, that is - but Christen isn’t looking for anything. She just wants to focus on herself and having a good time with her new friends, and she’s just about to head back to her booth and convince Ali that she does in fact deserve free chocolate milkshakes, when she remembers. 

Tobin. 

Christen fits her cocktail straw between her teeth and sucks, hard, until she isn’t in danger of spilling on the trip to the table. When she’s done with that, she finally looks to the side to see that Tobin in still there, a few steps closer than she was before and nursing a pale pint. She’s not sure of whether or not she should do anything - her mind has been too occupied to come to any decisions, and she’s not sure that she wants Tobin making them for her, so she settles for what seems appropriate. 

“Hi,” she says politely, figuring that the least she can do is properly acknowledge her. When the butterflies don’t immediately come rushing back she feels more confident in her choice and doesn’t flee to her booth the way a more basic flight-or-flight response would force her to. It makes her feel in control, the way she stands there with her pink drink and meets Tobin’s eyes for a second time. 

“Hi,” Tobin says, and there’s not much of anything to decipher out of that single syllable. “Are you - are you here with someone?”

“Um,” Christen says, having an inkling of what Tobin is really asking and not sure if she deserves an answer. “I’m here with some friends.”

She doesn’t want to be dishonest, ultimately. Not to herself, more than to anyone else.

“Oh, cool,” Tobin says, nodding as her fingers tap against the side of her drink. Most of the droplets on the glass are gone, and Christen wonders if she’s been sitting here with her beer for a while. “She was really into you, you know.”

“What?” Christen asks, looking down at where the bartender is shooting the same smile at someone else. “No, she’s just doing her job.”

“I could tell, she was interested in you,” Tobin pushes, and it makes Christen frown. 

“I’m not interested in her,” Christen says awkwardly. She knows she doesn’t have to explain herself, that she doesn’t have to justify anything, but she doesn’t want to come off in a way that is inauthentic. “And even if I was, what does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” Tobin says, but Christen gets the sense that she’s not being honest. “You’re allowed to do what you want.”

“I know I am,” Christen says. “As are you.”

Christen feels like she should be asking Tobin whether she’s here with anyone, but thinks that she really doesn’t care in the way she would have six months ago. What Tobin does is none of her business. 

“I should get back,” Christen says, motioning vaguely and doing her best to seem sincerely apologetic. 

“Of course,” Tobin says with a small nod, and Christen waits a beat before going to move, but then Tobin is speaking again. “Can we - do you think about what happened sometime?”

Christen bites her bottom lip. 

“I don’t know how much that would help,” she says. “We kind of tried that already.”

She can’t help the way she feels bad as Tobin’s face falls and her shoulders droop.

“Right,” she says, and then someone forces their way up to the bar on Tobin’s other side, so that they end up squeezed closer together, and for a brief second they’re closer than they've been in ages. 

They’re too close. Tobin smells as she always does and Christen is caught between inhaling deeply and not breathing at all, trying to decide which would be worse for her. She instead just breathes normally, and when she takes in that which seems almost wholly unfamiliar after all this time, she thinks that maybe this is it. 

Maybe this is what it’s like to be over someone. 

That realization sends the same pang through the center of her chest as before, and Christen wants to linger and mourn the loss of exactly how much of her heart and soul she put into things between the two of them, but she doesn’t. It isn’t worth it, and Christen is tired of pouring herself into things that don’t deserve that much of her - especially when she knows that they don’t deserve it. As much as Tobin meant to her, and will probably always mean to her in a funny sort of way, Christen wants to move on. 

And she feels like she has. 

“I hope you’re doing well,” Christen says, hoping it comes off genuinely. 

“You too,” Tobin says. She looks so forlorn that it makes Christen hesitate, racking her head for something she can say to make sure she leaves this as completely as she can. As much of a freak coincidence this is, she can’t help but feel like this is an opportunity to say just a bit more. 

“I don’t know how to have you in my life anymore,” she says, and for the first time, her throat feels tight, but she ignores it as best as she can. “We’ve grown apart, and I don’t think we know how to adjust to that. I’m sorry, I am, but I think that this is it.”

“I know,” Tobin says. “I just don’t know how to not be in love with you, I guess.”

Christen is shocked by the openness there, but stands strong and chooses her next words carefully. 

“I think you’ll be better off once you let go of what happened,” she says, hoping it comes off gently. “I know that I am.”

“I’m sorry,” Tobin says, and she jerks, almost like she wants to reach out for Christen but doesn’t. “You have to know that, you have to know how much I tried, how much I - ”

“It’s okay,” Christen says, and she’s suddenly overcome with sympathy for Tobin. 

“No, like I’m sorry,” Tobin says. “You need to know that.”

“It’s okay,” she repeats. “I don’t need your apologies, okay? It’s okay.”

Two months before, Christen would have been preoccupied with how empty and useless Tobin’s apologies would have seemed. Now, though, she realizes that she doesn’t need an apology. It’s not the key to healing, and Christen will manage to be okay and continue moving on, regardless of however Tobin feels about what happened between them. Because the truth of it all is that she is the only person who can make it all feel better at the end of the day. She only has control over herself, and learning what she can and can’t control is almost too empowering. 

When she looks at the defeat in the curved slump of Tobin’s shoulders, she feels sympathy, but not much else. 

“It’s okay,” she says again, soft enough that there’s a chance Tobin can’t hear her. “I’m going to go back to my friends.”

Christen doesn’t wait for Tobin to say anything. She just turns around and goes to the booth, sliding in next to Heather and refocusing her vision on Ali and Ashlyn. Smiling at them feels a little fake, considering the interaction she just had, but she just ignores Heather’s curious look and sets her drink down on the table with perhaps a little more force than necessary. 

“She was not into me,” Christen announces. “So I believe I’m owed some chocolate milkshakes?”

“Fine,” Ali says, grinning despite the fact that there’s no way to tell whether Christen is lying or not. “But I could have sworn she was.”

“She’s probably not even gay,” Christen says, and her eyes involuntarily go to the bar for a split second, snapping back to Ali before she can search out Tobin. 

“No, she definitely is,” Ashlyn says. “Trust me.”

They spend the rest of their time at the bar arguing about exactly what makes Ashlyn so certain, and that devolves into a conversation that’s mostly Heather asking the rest of them about what physical markers make it possible to tell from a distance, and then Ali starts dozing in her seat, marking the end of their night. It’s wonderfully warm and breezy outside, the remnants of a hot spring day lingering under the dark sky. Christen lets Ali and Ashlyn hug her goodbye before they get into an Uber, and then waits with Heather whose husband is coming to pick them up.

“You can always stay in our guest room,” Heather offers.

“Nah,” Christen says, shaking her head. “Thanks for the offer, though. I just kind of prefer my own bed.”

“Fair enough,” Heather allows. “Are you going to tell me about the girl you were talking to?”

Christen scuffs the soles of her boots on the sidewalk, buying her time to contemplate how much of the truth she wants to share here. 

“Are you going to make me tell you?” she asks.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Heather says with a shrug. “It just looked a little intense. Even if the bartender wasn’t into you - which I’m pretty sure she was, you liar - then that other girl definitely was.”

“No,” Christen denies shaking her head. “No, she wasn’t. She’s the girl I told you about.”

“Oh,” Heather says, eyes going wide. “Oh!”

“Yeah,” Christen says. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Heather offers. “I seem to be pretty good with the whole advice thing.”

Christen lets out a short laugh. 

“Maybe I need to stop asking you for advice,” she says, leaning into Heather who accepts the contact readily. “I’m probably giving you a big head here. Maybe I should only ask your advice on work related matters.”

“I do not have a big head,” Heather says confidently. “And if I do - it’s well deserved.”

“Right,” Christen says, and then they’re both giggling and Heather’s husband is pulling up, and well, Christen can’t remember the last time she felt this proud of herself. 

She can’t remember the last time she felt so  _ whole. _

*

There’s an Instagram post a few weeks later, when she’s sucking down the last chocolate milkshake of the month. She’s taking a break from charting, relaxing in one of the wheelie chairs at the nurses’ station with Ali to her left with a milkshake of her own. All that Christen means to do is pull out her phone and scroll through mindlessly, to break up the monotony of her day (she’s absolutely not complaining about it being slow, she’s glad that the unit isn’t pure chaos for once). What she doesn’t mean to do is see what she does, but she very determinedly keeps still and reactionless as she stares at her screen for maybe a bit too long. 

There isn’t a caption beyond a red heart emoji to match the violent red heart in the post. It’s a simple canvas painting, all red and black and white, abstract in that way Tobin always manages to nail, sharp and ugly and fascinating all at once. 

Tobin doesn’t post often, and when she does, she doesn’t usually bother tagging anyone in her posts. But someone - a different someone from the first time, Christen hates that her memory is good enough to allow her to remember - is tagged in the center of the heart, and combined with the choice of caption, it makes Christen wonder. 

She wonders but keeps still, her straw wedged between her molars as she bends her head low to the desk to examine it closely. 

“Christen,” Ali says mindlessly from next to her. “Will you come with me to co-sign some heparin?”

“Yeah,” Christen says, head snapping up from her phone, locking the screen quickly. “Yeah, of course. Now?”

“Just let me finish up a few things,” Ali says, clicking around. “I’ll meet you in room nineteen?”

“Sure,” Christen agrees, and refocuses her attention on the desktop in front of her. “Just let me finish up this chart.”

Ali leaves to go get the medication and Christen lingers at the desk, unlocking her phone and navigating to her messages to send one to Kelley. 

_ Want to do something this weekend? I’m off! _

It’s not that she’s affected, because she’s not. That’s not why she wants to see Kelley. In fact, it’s rather the opposite - she’s so unaffected that she isn’t sure if something is wrong with her, like she’s detached herself to an extreme degree. The urge to check in with one of the people who makes her feel human, who knows her better than she wants to admit, forces her to send the text without thinking about it too much, and she feels better when she gets an immediate response.

_ Yeah! Coffee at my favorite place? _

Christen confirms a time before heading off to help Ali, and once she’s finished co-signing the medication, Ali catches her by the elbow before she can leave. 

“Hold on a second, if you can,” Ali says. 

“Yeah, I have a minute,” Christen says. “Why?”

She waits outside of the room until Ali is done with her patient, and the two of them lean against the side of the hallway together. 

“You’re really good at this, you know,” Ali says conversationally. 

“Thanks?” Christen says questioningly, not sure of where this is going. 

“And I know you’re a little burnt out,” Ali continues. “Don’t deny it, I know the signs. We've all been there at one point or another. I just wanted to suggest something, but you can tell me if it’s way out of line.”

“No,” Christen says, a little embarrassed at Ali being able to read how frustrating this job is for her most of the time. “You can go ahead and say it.”

“They’re about to lose a bunch of ICU nurses to the new surgical ICU expansion,” Ali says, “and I think you should apply to work up there.”

“On the fourth floor?” Christen asks, surprised. “I’m not an ICU nurse, Ali.”

“No, I know,” Ali says hurriedly. “But I think you might like a change of pace or something. It’s different up there - a little more about the medicine, taking care of your patients and helping them improve. It’s less about bringing Bob his apple juice for the sixth time this shift, you know?”

“Yeah,” Christen says, a shadow of a smile crossing over her face. “Yeah I know what you mean.”

“You don’t have to,” Ali says lightly. “But I know Heather and Dawn would vouch for you, and they’d probably get our director to put in a good word for you too. And I know it’s a higher level of care, but I’ve seen you keep calm under pressure. You’d do well up there, you know.”

Christen feels touched by that, but just swallows and smiles for real at Ali. 

“It’s a good thought,” she says. “Definitely worth considering.”

“Okay, good,” Ali says. “I didn’t want to overstep or anything.”

“You haven’t,” Christen assures her as her pager starts buzzing. “I think my post-op wants some more pain medication.”

“Go, go,” Ali tells her. “I just wanted to suggest it!”

Christen heads for the med room, her mind full but for once in a way that doesn’t leave her feeling lost and overwhelmed. 

It feels like progress. 

*

“Where’s your other half?” Christen asks as Kelley flops down across from her. 

Kelley frowns, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head so she can peer at Christen. 

“What?” she asks cluelessly, and Christen just slides Kelley’s coffee across the table towards her. “What are you talking about?”

“Sonnett,” Christen says, and Kelley just shoots her a glare before snapping her sunglasses back down over her eyes. 

“We don’t spend that much time together,” Kelley mutters, slouching down in her seat. “But she’s got studying to do, I’ll have you know.”

“Right, right,” Christen says, and she’s normally not one to give Kelley a hard time like this, but it’s too easy, and too much fun to resist. It’s not often that Kelley squirms. “You know, I haven’t seen you in ages. I’m pretty sure it’s been weeks.”

“Has it really been that long?” Kelley asks, cradling her giant mug. “We did dinner and drinks that one time last month.”

“Exactly,” Christen says, raising her own mug to her mouth to take a sip. 

“Wow,” Kelley says. “I can’t believe it’s been that long. I guess I should ask what’s new with you then.”

“Maybe you should,” Christen says, hiding a smirk. 

“Fine,” Kelley says, rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry it’s been a while! But you’ve been busy too!”

“I know,” Christen says, laying off a bit. “I’ve just been trying to enjoy work a little more, I guess.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with your coworkers, haven’t you?” Kelley questions. 

“Yeah,” Christen says with a nod. “Yeah, they’re actually pretty cool.”

“What a pity that you’re coming up on your five years there,” Kelley says. “I mean, you’re leaving, aren’t you?”

Christen sets her mug down, resisting the urge to look away from Kelley’s expectant gaze. 

“Christen,” Kelley says emphatically. “Christen, you’re leaving, right?”

“Actually,” Christen says, as calmly as she can, “Ali kind of suggested that I look into an ICU position.”

When she doesn’t elaborate, Kelley does her thing where she quirks an eyebrow and stares at Christen until the pressure gets to her. It’s not that Christen gives in, exactly - at least, she doesn’t feel as though she does. It’s more like she chooses to, Christen thinks, before explaining herself. 

“I mean, yeah, I’m a little burnt out,” Christen says, watching Kelley’s face remain in the exact same expression. “But Ali and Heather keep telling me that I’m good at my job, and I don’t know, maybe I am. I feel like after all these years, I actually know what I’m doing. And it’s different in the ICU, or at least that’s what they say. Less customer service, more patient care.”

Kelley stays silent, so Christen continues. 

“I like helping people,” she says. “I don’t want to go work at some cosmetic surgery clinic, I’ve told you that before. I like fighting for my patients, and leaning more from every new case I see. I think it’s at least worth a chance, you know?”

She waits this time, for Kelley to say something. She waits as Kelley drinks her coffee, and she waits while drinking some of her own. 

“I’m proud of you,” Kelley says eventually, and it’s somewhat thick in a way that Christen finds surprising. 

“Yeah?” Christen asks. 

“Yeah,” Kelley says, and the grin that spreads across her face makes Christen feel like she’s finally doing something right. “I hope you don’t think that I don’t respect what you do - because I do. I just want you to be happy. So if you think that a position like that will help with that, I’m all for it.”

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Christen says. “It would involve a raise, so.”

“Always a good thing,” Kelley says. “You seem like you’re doing really well, then.”

“I think I am,” Christen says, and it feels like she’s admitting something big. “I’ve been feeling pretty good lately.”

Kelley flips her sunglasses back up so she can smile fully, eyes crinkling in the morning sun. It makes Christen warm, as though everything is slowly falling into place. She wonders if maybe this is what she was supposed to do two years ago, when she was supposed to be getting over Tobin the first time. 

It’s almost as if Kelley can read her mind - which isn’t totally surprising, given how well she seems to know her, but Christen isn’t exactly thrilled about it. 

“You haven’t spoken to Tobin, have you.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, but Christen answers with a shake of her head anyway. 

“No,” she says, deciding not to mention the time she ran into Tobin at the bar. “And that’s probably for the best.”

“I’m really sorry about how it all worked out, even if you do seem to be doing better,” Kelley says, and Christen just shrugs. 

“It’s for the best,” she repeats decisively. “Have you seen her?”

“Yeah,” Kelley says, and it’s her turn to shrug. “We both fit in some hours at the same training clinic.”

“That’s cool,” Christen says, hoping to convey that she’s okay with that - that she’s okay with the two of them remaining friends, that she’s strong enough to handle that, that Kelley doesn’t need to tiptoe around her. And then, out of politeness - “She doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Kelley says slowly. “Would I be making the same mistake I made way back when if I told you that she’s been seeing other people?”

Christen expects it to sting at the very least, and it does, if only because it relates back to the suspicion that had started all of this. She just shakes her head at Kelley again though, sipping at her coffee to buy her a moment to formulate an appropriate response. 

“No, you wouldn’t,” Christen tells me. “Besides - I’m not about to be a hypocrite. She can do whatever she wants.”

“So can you,” Kelley points out. “You know, I’d totally be willing to fix you up with people. I meet a lot of girls at the training center. And I’ve got a million hot pictures of you on my phone.”

“Stop,” Christen says, embarrassed but a little pleased by the compliment. “I’m not really looking for anything right now. I’m just trying to focus on being the best version of myself that I can be.”

“That’s totally fair,” Kelley says, sitting up. “I respect that.”

“I appreciate the offer, though,” Christen says. 

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Kelley says. “Because I mean it, I’d be more than happy to set you up with some of our clients.”

“I will,” Christen promises. “When I’m ready, I’ll let you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point i'm estimating about eighteen chapters total, so don't worry, there's a lot left to happen still. hopefully you guys can appreciate the character development i'm trying to put christen through here in the meantime. let me know what you thought of this one!


	12. Be Alright

When Christen’s pager goes off, she groans loudly. 

It’s been a long morning, to say the least. There hadn’t been any time to grab breakfast, and now it’s nearing two in the afternoon with no lunch break in sight. To stave off the hunger pains and ensure that she wouldn’t spend the remainder of her shift with a growling stomach, Christen had ducked into the nutrition room to grab an apple juice and a pack of graham crackers. Of course, as soon as she shoves half a cracker into her mouth, spraying crumbs down the front of her scrubs, her pager buzzes against her hip and she momentarily contemplates saying ‘fuck it’ and throwing the thing against the wall. 

They’re nearly indestructible, though. Christen is pretty sure she wouldn’t even manage to put a dent in the thing. 

As it is, she groans loudly - for her own benefit, really, as there’s no one in the room to hear her - and then unclips her pager from her waistband to read the message she’s been sent. 

COME TO THE FRONT DESK ASAP

Her heart kicks into double speed, mind racing with possibilities of what could possibly be going on with either of her patients. The rest of the graham packet gets tossed in the trash and the unopened apple juice gets left on the counter, and then it’s quick dash out of the room and to the nurses’ station. If she were still on her old unit, Christen would have finished her snack before slowly, dreadfully, making her way out to see what was needed, but it’s different on the fourth floor. 

Everything is different up here. The standard of care is higher, and a month in the ICU hasn’t been nearly enough time for Christen to feel comfortable, but she’s learning. Everyday she soaks in information like a sponge and she’s only been on her own for the last week, spending the first few shadowing one of the experienced nurses here, and she’s still new enough that every beep has her terrified that one of her patients is about to code and it’s all her fault. There had been a particularly embarrassing moment the previous day when she’d forgotten something so simple, and had nearly begged Lauren to send her back to the second floor, where she’d never failed to replace a peripheral line on time. 

Lauren, the nurse she’d shadowed, had merely wrapped an arm around her shoulders and told her to get it together. 

“You can do this,” Lauren had told her. “Don’t forget the basics, just because you’re learning new stuff.”

So now, Christen skids to a stop in front of the desk, eyes wide and ears alert, listening for any kind of alarms, or a code being called overhead. 

“What is it?” she pants out frantically. “Are my guys okay? Did someone code? I was just - ”

“You know you still get paged ‘code blue’ in the event of a code blue, don’t you?” says a familiar voice.

Christen turns her head to see Heather leaning against the inside of the nurses’ station, a wide grin on her face as her arms cross over the front of her chest. 

“Are you kidding me?” Christen gets out, clutching at her chest and trying to regulate her breathing. “Are you - did you ask them to - ”

“Ask us to page you to come here asap?” Amy asks from where she’s sitting at a computer next to where Heather is standing. She looks far too amused at Christen’s reaction. “Yeah, she did.”

“You’re the worst,” Christen says, pointing to Heather. “I actually like everyone up here, so don’t you go turning them just as evil as you are.”

“I’m not evil!” Heather protests. “Besides - I’ve known Amy for ages.”

“I started out on the second floor,” Amy informs Christen. “Back when Heather was new, before she was a charge nurse.”

“Oh, wow,” Christen says, calming down now that she’s realized that nothing is wrong with her patients. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just coming to see how you’re doing,” Heather says with a shrug. “We miss having you down there, you know.”

“Thanks,” Christen says sincerely. “I miss you guys too - even though I don’t particularly miss the patients.”

“We’ve been going easy on you,” Amy says, and the set of her jaw has Christen unsure of whether the comment is intended ominously or not. “Just you wait till you’re more comfortable up here.”

“She’s a good one, Amy,” Heather says, sharing a smile with Christen. “She can handle more than she thinks she can.”

“Hm,” Amy says, eyebrows raised. “You mind if I head to lunch? I’ll watch your patients when I get back.”

“Yeah, of course,” Christen responds - because really, what else is she supposed to say?

“Great,” Amy says, pushing away from the desk. “See you in thirty.”

Once it’s just the two of them at this end of the station, Heather looks at Christen expectantly.

“So?” she pushes. “What’s new?”

“Oh, not much,” Christen says. “I mean, the doctors up here are way more intense than I expected, but Lauren has pretty awesome and - ”

“Not with work,” Heather says, eyes rolling. “I assume you’re doing fine here, since you haven’t been begging to come back down with me.”

“No offense,” Christen says carefully, “but I’d rather deal with ventilators than patients who ask for hot blankets every five minutes.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Heather says. “So? Tell me how you are?”

“I’m good!” Christen says honestly. “My friend Kelley keeps trying to set me up on dates with her clients, but I’m pretty sure it’s just because she wants to double-date, since I’m currently refusing to be a third wheel.”

“Why don’t you?” Heather asks.

“What?” Christen asks, brow furrowed. “Why don’t I what?”

“Why don’t you let her set you up?” Heather says. “And what’s wrong with double dating?”

“I don’t think I’m ready to date,” Christen says, shaking her head. 

“Are you still caught up on that girl?” Heather asks. 

“Well, no, but - ”

“Then you’ve got no excuse,” Heather says. “Unless I’m missing something, and she keeps trying to set you up with criminals, or psychopaths, or - ”

“No, she’s not,” Christen says hastily. “No, she works with athletes and stuff.”

“So why not let her set you up?” Heather persists. 

Christen takes a moment to contemplate her answer, trying to choose the words that will most accurately convey exactly why the idea of dating someone at this point in time is such a turn-off for her. 

“I think I’m just focusing on myself right now,” she says. “I’m trying to make sure I’m the best, most complete version of myself that I can be before I try to have a relationship with anyone else.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” Heather says. “What’s wrong with just dating these days?”

“You know,” Christen says, trying not to crack a smile, “for someone who met their husband in college, you have an awful lot of advice about how this all should go.”

Heather laughs at that.

“Okay, fair enough,” she allows. “But you should think about it! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“A lot,” Christen says. “Do you want a list?”

“No,” Heather says. “Come on though, think about it, will you?”

“I’ll think about it,” Christen compromises, because as usual, Heather has a point. “If I ever get a chance. This new position is kind of stressful, you know.”

“Could be a nice way to unwind,” Heather suggests. “A drink, some nice conversation, maybe bring someone home every once in a while.”

“Is that what you do to unwind?” Christen asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“I did in college,” Heather says with a shrug. “How do you think I met my husband? He’s just lucky enough that I let him stick around.”

“In college I went out with my classmates to unwind,” Christen hums, remembering those days. “There was this great karaoke bar right off campus. We’d do tequila shots and take turns pushing each other on stage.”

“Wait, really?” Heather asks, laughing doubtfully. “I can’t picture you doing that.”

“Oh, I used to,” Christen assures her. “Definitely needed a little liquid courage in me to actually go through with it, but the combination worked like a charm.”

In the back of her mind, Christen is reminded of having a similar conversation with Tobin a few months earlier, but she shuts it out before it can take hold. 

“I’d kill to see that,” Heather says. 

“Oh, no,” Christen groans, propping her elbows up on the counter and burying her head in her hands. “Please tell me that I didn’t just give you a really awful idea.”

“You didn’t,” Heather tells her. “You just gave me a really great one.”

“I’m really going to regret this, aren’t I?” Christen asks, peeking an eye out to see Heather’s devious smile. 

“You’re going to thank me for this later, I promise you,” Heather tells her. 

Christen isn’t so sure, but Heather puts her in a good enough mood that later when she’s shoveling reheated stir-fry into her mouth, she pulls out her phone to text Kelley. 

_ Do you still want to set me up with that one girl? _

Kelley’s response comes before Christen has to go back out on the floor. 

_ Hell yeah. Just tell me when and I’ll make it happen. _

*

Kelley is running late, which should be much less surprising than it actually is. Christen doesn’t let herself worry about it too much - she just lets Ali order a round of shots for everyone, and there are people here that Christen doesn’t know very well, but she tries not to retreat into herself the way she normally would. Instead, she lets Ashlyn introduce her to a couple of friends that she’s brought along for the fun and hangs close to Heather. 

“Okay,” Ali says, flipping through the book of available songs. “What should I sing? Backstreet Boys, or Whitney Houston?”

“That depends,” Becky says, leaning over to look with Ali. She’s remarkably composed, refusing any shots passed her way but instead holding onto a beer with a familiar ease. “How drunk do you plan on getting?”

“Those are two very different ranges,” remarks Sydney, one of Ashlyn’s friends. 

Christen giggles along next to Ashlyn who is rolling her eyes. 

“I’ve got to get a video of this,” she says to Christen out of the corner of her mouth. “This was your idea?”

“I didn’t mean for Heather to run with it the way she did,” Christen says, thinking of how Heather had not only posted a sign up sheet down on her unit, but also invited all of Christen’s new ICU coworkers. Amy and Lauren had managed to use their kids as an excuse for why they couldn’t make it, but Christen has a feeling that they’ll end up dragged along sooner rather than later - Heather and Ali are very tenacious in that way.

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Ashlyn says, leaning back in her chair. “I won’t pass up a chance to get Ali a little drunk.”

“Is she even a good singer?” Heather asks, popping her head over from where she’s been trying to convince Ali to do a little Queen. “Because she seems to think she’s got the skills for most of these.”

Christen doesn’t catch Ashlyn’s answer as Kelley texts her to say she’s arrived, and she quickly excuses herself to get up and greet her best friend. The place isn’t exactly crowded, but Christen does the polite thing and goes to hug Kelley before realizing that she’s not alone.

“Oh!” Christen says, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Hi, Alex.”

“Hi,” Alex says, and she doesn’t even hesitate before leaning in to air-kiss both of Christen’s cheeks. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here! Kelley told me it was a big group, and it was either this or mope around the house while my husband is out of town for a game.”

“Well it’s good to see you,” Christen says, mostly meaning it but still remembering the last time they’d seen each other, and how strangely they’d left things. “Of course it’s okay that you’re here. I think it’s much less of a work event, and more of a friends thing.”

“I’d say that my work events don’t involve beer, but I’d be lying,” Alex jokes. 

“And here you were, worried that you’d be the third wheel,” Kelley says, and Christen isn’t completely sure who she’s talking to, but goes and pulls her in for a quick hug regardless. 

“How are you?” Christen asks her. “And really, can you blame me with how things have been the last few times we’ve hung out? Where’s Sonnett?”

“She doesn’t come with me everywhere,” Kelley mutters under her breath, shooting Christen a glare while Alex looks on with restrained delight. “She’s got finals to study for, I’ll have you know.”

“I really hope you give her shit for her life choices when I’m not around to do so,” Alex says to Christen. 

“Oh, I do,” Christen reassures her. “Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered.”

“Good,” Alex says, looking pleased. “Hey, would it be too weird if I asked if we could talk for a minute?”

Christen stutters for a second, looking at Kelley and thinking that the last thing she wants to do is throw her to the sharks, but Kelley just shakes her head and motions for Christen to go ahead. 

“I’ll be fine,” Kelley says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m going to pick out some killer songs for you two to sing.”

“Oh, no,” Christen groans, laughing despite the fact that she’s a little scared of what Kelley plans on selecting. 

“She’ll probably sign us up for something ridiculous,” Alex says, rolling her eyes. “Come on, find someplace quiet with me.”

They end up near the restrooms, leaning against the wall to face each other. Alex wears a slightly serious expression that’s unnerving, and Christen almost wishes she’d taken the second shot that Syd had tried to push off on her. Because Alex is who she is, and doesn’t mince words or fumble through the niceties, she comes right out with it. Christen is grateful for that in a way - they’ve already gone through the small talk, and she doesn’t need time to get worked up about whatever it is that Alex wants to talk about. 

“I’m sorry for meddling,” Alex says, and she’s blunt in a way that reminds Christen of the time the two of them stood in her bathroom together all those months before. “I really am. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“It’s okay,” Christen says, because in the grand scheme of things, whatever part Alex had played in all of it had been next to insignificant. “You were being a good friend to Tobin. You don’t need to apologize.”

It almost feels weird to speak Tobin’s name again. It’s something Christen hasn’t been actively working on, more of a natural transition than anything, but she’s gone from letting Tobin’s name swirl around in her head all the time to barely hearing it at all, in any manner. It feels foreign in a way that she would have hated six months prior, but now it just feels as though this is how it should be. 

“I know, but it’s wrong to get in between things when you don’t belong there,” Alex says. She’s soft, her edges brushed over in a way that makes Christen wonder if it’s done purely for her. “Especially when I might not have had the entire story.”

“It’s okay, Alex,” Christen says, and she means it entirely. “You don’t need to apologize, but I appreciate that you have. Whatever happened is in the past now.”

There’s so much more that could be said, Christen thinks as Alex looks at her apprehensively. They could discuss exactly what Alex had known, when she’s learned since then, and how any kind of miscommunication could have impacted the conversation they’d had back on new years. Thankfully, Alex seems to understand what Christen is saying now: that none of that kind of thinking is necessary. Christen is trying to move on and she’s not holding any bit of what happened against Alex, and Alex draws Christen in for a hug that lingers noticeably. 

“I want us to be friends,” Alex says, her voice a bit muffled in Christen’s curls. Christen’s arms tighten involuntarily around Alex’s waist, trying to figure out if this is weird or not. 

“Yeah?” she settles on asking, unsure of what exactly Alex means by that.

“Yeah,” Alex says, and when she pulls back, she’s smiling sweetly. Really, for as otherworldly as she seems most of the time, Christen understands why she’s close with Kelley. “Just so that like, I can hang out with you and Kelley and not feel weird about it. You know?”

“That sounds nice,” Christen tells her, because it does. It might take a little getting used to, because she’s not very good with letting her life overlap with Kelley’s, but she’s thinking that now it’s something she can manage. 

“Come on, then,” Alex says, and she’s still smiling even as she forces Christen’s hand in hers for the walk back to where everyone else is gathered. Christen spots Kelley eyeing them with amusement, watching the way Alex swings their joined hands back and forth with much more enthusiasm than Christen personally deems necessary. 

“Oh, wow,” Kelley says, sitting next to Heather who, from the looks of it, has been jabbering on about something. “So you’re really going to make me the third wheel, then.”

“Consider it payback,” Christen tells her, unable to stop from smiling as she sneaks a look at Alex. “For all the times you’re going to force me to play that role.”

“Don’t worry,” Heather says loudly, wrapping an arm around Kelley’s shoulders. Kelley leans into her, smirking into the cheap plastic cup of beer she’s holding. “I’ll keep you company.”

“Oh, god,” Christen says dreadfully, watching Kelley’s free hand come up to hold onto Heather’s wrist. “The two of you together is really the last thing I need.”

“Should have thought of that before you invited her,” Heather says, and then Ashlyn is shushing them all and pointing at the stage. 

“I want a good video of this,” she tells them, phone angled towards Ali who is tapping the microphone very loudly. “So shut up, I don’t want any background noise.”

“Let’s pick out songs for us before Kelley can,” Alex says, disentangling their hands so she can nudge Christen in the direction of Ashlyn’s other friend, who is loud with skinny limbs and pink hair and introduced herself as Pinoe. “Take advantage of her distraction.”

“Okay, but I’m not doing anything embarrassing,” Christen warns. 

“That’s fine, neither am I,” Alex says with a shrug. “I’d rather be caught dead than singing Love Shack.”

Christen giggles, and it’s easy to let herself accept the drinks that are pushed her way and relax into the evening. She toes the fine line between tipsy and drunk until Alex and Kelley finally push her onto the stage to sing, and Heather is a saint who sits on the edge so her feet can dangle as she holds Christen’s sweaty hand without protest. It’s the least alone she’s felt in months - years, even - and she thinks that if she could bottle up this feeling forever, and exist in these moments for the rest of her life, she might be okay. 

She might be okay, Christen thinks as there’s a polite smattering of applause for her. The group she’s with are all howling for her, with Ashlyn unashamedly whistling loudly, and Christen lets herself flop down to sit next to Heather who immediately gathers her into a side hug. 

“I can’t believe we haven’t been doing this for years,” Heather tells her. “You’ve been at the hospital for five years! We could have been doing this the entire time!”

There’s a moment where Christen feels regret, strong and slashing through her and stealing her breath away. She remembers Tobin and all the time that had been taken from her, and for a moment, Christen resents the version of herself that had allowed her life to become one of mere existence. 

But then Alex is throwing herself at the pair of them, yelling for them to get off the stage and let the next performer go on, and Heather is laughing and the good mood is infectious, and Christen realizes that those feelings aren’t fair. 

It’s not fair to resent the past version of herself she thinks, as she winds up smashed between Kelley and Ali who are talking over her. She takes a moment to breathe and realize that she can’t look at it that way, as though she’d wasted her time, or allowed Tobin to waste it. Because the truth of it all is that if she hadn’t been through everything, she never would have gotten to this point. She never would have gotten to a point where she’s wedged between people that she knows care about her, who she cares about. She never would be able to have a good time like this, and never found have found the motivation and strength to give herself the life she’s always wanted. 

It’s a bit overwhelming, the thought of it, and Christen leans against Kelley without letting herself think too much about it. After all, it’s just Kelley - Kelley, who’s been there for nearly everything and refuses to leave, and insists on being everything that Christen has ever needed in a best friend. 

“Thank you,” Christen says, head leaning on Kelley’s shoulder. Kelley tilts her head over to rest on Christen’s, and everyone around them is rowdy and loud and Christen’s heart is pounding, but for a moment everything feels peaceful. 

“For what?” Kelley asks. 

“For coming,” Christen says, reaching over to squeeze Kelley’s thigh. “For being the greatest friend ever.”

“Aw,” Kelley coos at her. “Does the alcohol make you sappy?”

Christen slaps at Kelley’s thigh, eyes closing so she can focus on saying what it is she means to say.

“No,” she says determinedly. “No, I’m just saying thank you. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Kelley says, humor lacing her tone. “You’re welcome, though.”

“You’re going to steal all my work friends,” Christen says, and she’s mostly joking. 

“Well, you did it first,” Kelley jokes right back, and Christen almost feels sour for a second, but then she’s laughing dryly and squeezing Kelley’s thigh affectionately. 

“I thought you’d ask me about my date with your one client,” Christen says, eyes still closed. 

“I was going to,” Kelley says. “But I figured that you’d tell me if you wanted to. And now look - you’re doing exactly that.”

“I hate you,” Christen mutters.

“You love me,” Kelley tells her, knocking their heads together just a little. “You love that I know you so well.”

“I hate it,” Christen says a bit louder. “I wish you didn’t.”

“No, you don’t,” Kelley says. “Are you going to tell me, then? She was hot, wasn’t she?”

Christen sighs out loud, thinking of the enthusiastic blonde that Kelley had sent her way.

“Sure, if that’s your type,” Christen says, cracking her eyes open as she feels Ali’s body to her left get up and move away. “Do you know me at all?”

“Sometimes we need to step out of our comfort zones,” Kelley tells her.

“Is that why you’re dating a younger woman?”

Kelley protests, and Christen grins as she closes her eyes again. 

“She was nice, she was fine,” Christen says. 

“High praise,” Kelley says. 

“I know,” Christen says. “No, really, she was fine. I mean, I’m not looking for anything really, you know that.”

“I know, but it doesn’t hurt to enjoy yourself a little,” Kelley says, and Christen can hear the good intentions in her voice. “Are you going to see her again?”

“I don’t think so,” Christen says, more for Kelley’s sake. She hadn’t even bothered storing the girl’s number in her phone, and she feels a little bad about not responding to her texts, but she thinks that maybe she can look at this as a new experience for herself. She’s never had to do this before, never needed to casually date and then leave someone behind upon realizing that they weren’t for her, but she’s trying to draw the positives out of it. “Is that a problem?”

“As long as she keeps coming to see me, I don’t care what you do,” Kelley says, in a way that’s so very like her that Christen can’t help but laugh. “But if you’re going to continue to ghost my clients, I’m not going to set you up with any of them. I’ll make you download Tinder or something.”

Christen shudders at the very thought. 

“I’ll find someone when I’m meant to,” Christen says, because she believes it. “And until them, I’m perfectly fine with where I am now.”

“You’re so wise,” Kelley says, and she sounds surprisingly sincere for a change. Christen searches for something appropriate to say in return, but before she can find anything that feels right, they’re rudely interrupted.

“Girls,” a loud voice says, and Christen’s snaps her eyes open to see Alex and Syd looming over them, looking suspiciously like they’re up to something. 

“Hi,” Kelley says smoothly, and the two of them sit up straight. “What’s up?”

“Stop being Debbie Downers,” Syd says impatiently. “We’re all trying to convince Becky to get up and sing something, and we need your help.”

“How are we supposed to help?” Christen asks. 

“Just tell me what I have to do,” Kelley says, jumping out of her seat and wiping her hands on the backside of her shorts. “Which one is Becky again?”

“She’s going to kill all of you,” Ali is calling over at them. “She’s not going to do it!”

“I can be very persuasive, I’ll have you know,” Kelley says, fluffing out her hair. 

“You realize you can’t seduce her into it, right?” Christen says, earning a dirty look from Kelley while Alex is pulling at her, trying to get her to stand up. 

“Come on,” Alex begs. “Stop trying to fall asleep.”

“I’m not trying to sleep!” Christen denies, but Alex just grins at her and keeps pulling until she gets what she wants. 

“You know we’re all here thanks to you,” Alex says. “So it’s your turn to do a bit of legwork.”

“As if me getting up there to sing some Kelly Clarkson wasn’t legwork enough?” Christen laughs. 

“That was a brave choice,” Alex concedes. “You’re lucky the audience helped you pull it off.”

“You’re lucky I’m not making you sing again,” Heather says, slamming into them. “That should only count as half, since I basically did it with you.”

“What happened to volunteering as moral support?” Christen exclaims, cheeks warm and her soul happy. 

Then Kelley is cheering and Becky is standing up, rolling her eyes. 

“One song!” she’s insisting, holding up a single index finger. “Just one! And I’m not doing a wild one, or letting you pick it.”

“I did it!” Kelley is hollering, jumping on her toes. “I’ve done the impossible, she’s going to do it!”

“Great job,” Ashlyn says, slapping her on the back. 

“I can’t believe she did it,” Christen says, shaking her head. “I really didn’t think she could.”

“I didn’t think anyone could,” Heather marvels. “You’ve got quite a friend there, Christen.”

Kelley finds Christen easily, poking through Alex and Heather so she can smack a kiss to her cheek. 

“Don’t tell Emily about that,” Kelley says, eyes widening in that way of hers. “I’m just really happy that you’re happy, you know.”

Christen just smiles at her. 

“Thanks, Kelley,” she says. “And don’t worry - I definitely won’t tell her.”

“You’re the best,” Kelley yells before she’s gone again, disappearing beyond everyone to go do whatever it is that Kelley does when she’s not next to Christen. 

“I’m really glad you guys are friends,” Alex says. “And I’m really glad that you gave me another shot, after last time.”

“What happened last time?” Heather asks curiously.

Christen can feel them both looking at her, and rather than give any kind of details out about the entire situation, she just shakes her head and points to the side of the stage where Kelley is whispering in Becky’s ear. 

“Never mind what happened,” Christen says decisively. “Let’s go watch this - I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Alex and Heather agree with her, and Christen doesn’t feel a single urge to backtrack or talk about everything that’s happened, and, well - 

She feels like she’s reached a place she never thought she’d get to, and she couldn’t be more thankful for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a little shorter than usual and a bit of a filler with some small important bits scattered throughout. that being said, next chapter should really pick up quite a bit. in the meantime, i hope you like this one!


	13. Problem

Christen would be lying if she said she isn’t nervous. 

Because she is - incredibly so. 

It’s natural, she tells herself, hands shaking as she fumbles the combination into her locker at work. It’s natural that she would be nervous in a situation like this, and feeling such a way doesn’t make all the progress she’s made over the last few months any less important. It’s been a lot of work, a lot of effort that had been painful at first (she still winces when she thinks back to the first time she had hung out alone with Heather, at how painfully awkward she had been) but has now proven to be incredibly effective because she’s managed what she meant to achieve in the first place. 

She would safely consider herself to be over Tobin, Christen decides, swinging her purse over her arm and making sure that she isn’t taking anything with her that she shouldn’t. 

For all that the two of them had been through, for as much as Christen had loved her, and for as much as Christen had wished to be loved back, she thinks that she can confidently say to herself that she no longer wishes she had a time machine and could go back and change the way it had all gone down. And really, that’s a big thing for her, she decides as she retrieves her lunchbox from the refrigerator. It hasn’t been easy, and it’s taken longer than she would have liked, but she feels like she’s finally there and, even more importantly, like she’s glad to be there. 

Christen is glad to exist in a world in which she is completely and entirely over Tobin. 

She waves goodbye to Lauren and Amy who take the elevator down to the lobby, opting to take the stairs down to the second floor where Heather is working today, and while it usually takes her a while to finish giving report to the next shift before she can leave, Christen doesn’t mind waiting. She hadn’t intended for her former kind-of-boss to become her closest confidante, but at this point, she’s definitely not complaining. Heather is nice and has tolerated everything Christen has thrown at her, but hasn’t given her a place to indulge the urge to wallow, and while at first that might have seemed a little cruel, it’s been immensely helpful. 

After all, it hasn’t at all been a small feat, for Christen to get over someone that she had been in love with for nearly three years. 

When Heather finally bangs her way into the break room, Christen takes in her harried expression and pulls a sympathetic face. 

“Tough shift?” Christen asks. 

“You wouldn’t even believe,” Heather says, pulling her purse out of her locker. “We were short staffed after the six new admissions before noon, and then one of the nurses thought she scratched her eye and needed to leave early to get it looked at, so I had to take a couple of patients. I don’t mind the bedside aspect of the job, you know that, but it’s too hard to do that and be charge.”

“I know, I’m sorry you had such a rough day,” Christen says, watching Heather zoom her way around the break room to gather her things. “If it’s any consolation, I think every unit is short staffed.”

“Is there a flu going around that I don’t know about?” Heather huffs, stuffing her stethoscope in her locker before slamming it shut. “Come on, walk with me. Tell me what’s so important that it was worth waiting for me to finish giving report on two patients, in addition to the entire floor.”

“I hope that at least the night shift is staffed better,” Christen says with a frown. 

Heather snorts. 

“Yeah, right. That would mean that the apocalypse was coming.”

Christen takes a deep breath as they climb down the stairs. Her problems seem so insignificant in comparison to Heather’s, on a unit where she’s trying to do two jobs in one, but Heather is looking at her so expectantly that she doesn’t want to disappoint. 

“So I’m kind of nervous,” Christen starts. “And it could be an overreaction, or maybe it’s normal to be nervous over something like this, but it’s hard for me to tell. I don’t want to like, back out and not go, but I’m trying to figure out the best way to deal with it. Because it’s got me so nervous.”

“Are you going to tell me why?” Heather asks. 

“Shut up,” Christen says with a short laugh as they walk through the hospital lobby. “I’m allowed to ramble when I’m nervous, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are!” Heather says reassuringly. “I’m not trying to give you grief, I’m just trying to get you to talk faster. We don’t have that far to walk to our cars, you know, and I’m supposed to make dinner tonight.”

“Alright, fair,” Christen says. “You remember the girl from the bar?”

Heather’s face screws up as she attempts to recall.

“That one time with Ali and Ash?” she questions. “Where we dared you to go chat up the bartender? The other girl, the one you said you dated, are we talking about her?”

“That’s the one,” Christen confirms as they walk outside, where the days are finally lengthening to the point where she can catch the tail end of a sunset while driving home. “Well, I think she’s going to be at a thing I’m going to this weekend.”

“Okay,” Heather says, nodding. “So you’re nervous about running into her?”

“Yeah,” Christen says. “I mean, I probably will. Kelley is hosting this graduation party for her players - kids will probably be in and out, and I’m pretty sure she’s only doing this for her girlfriend - and Tobin is their assistant coach too, so it’s a pretty fair assumption that she’ll drop by at some point.”

“I think I just learned more about her in that sentence than I have in the last few months,” Heather comments. 

“Shut up,” Christen says, rolling her eyes this time. “You know I’ve been making an effort to keep her out of my life as much as possible.”

“I know, and I’m not taking issue with that,” Heather says. “I’m just saying - she was nameless and jobless sixty seconds ago.”

“Okay, forget I even said anything,” Christen says, but it’s clear that she’s joking and they’re both laughing as they approach the parking lot. 

“You’ll be okay,” Heather says confidently. “I believe in you, I really do. Just remember how hard you’ve tried to get through everything, and don’t lose that progress.”

“Is it normal to be this nervous?” Christen asks, holding out her hands, palms down, so Heather can see how badly they’re shaking. “Like, it’s not as bad as my anxiety gets sometimes, but it’s not good, exactly.”

“Good thing you don’t work in surgery,” Heather says, peering at her hands. “I do think it’s normal, though. I know you take my relationship advice with a grain of salt, but I don’t think it’s that weird to worry about seeing an ex again.”

“She’s not really my ex,” Christen tries to remind her as she puts her hands back down by her sides.

“She’s as good as,” Heather tells her. “Even if you didn’t slap a label on it, don’t diminish what you were to each other. That doesn’t help you at all. That just makes it harder to cope with what you’re feeling.”

“How?” Christen asks. 

“By creating a discrepancy between what you’re experiencing and what you believe was experienced,” Heather explains. “When the two don’t add up, you end up driving yourself crazy. So let what happened between you two have as much significance as it needs to in order for you to process it fully, and for you to be able to handle seeing her again.”

“You’re too wise,” Christen says, shaking her head as they reach her car first. It’s not the first time they’ve made this walk together, and Heather hangs out by her trunk as is standard for when they’re trying to wrap up a conversation. 

“I know,” she says modestly. “I figure the least I can do is pass it on.”

“You’re spending too much time with Kelley,” Christen says. 

“It was one coffee date,” Heather says, “and if you didn’t want us to hang out, you shouldn’t have invited her to karaoke.”

“So just go anyway, and be nervous anyway,” Christen says, trying to sum it up the best she can. 

“Yep,” Heather says brightly, smiling widely. “And have a good time, and be proud of yourself for the progress you’ve made.”

“Thanks,” Christen says sincerely. “I really appreciate you listening to me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Heather says. “Now I’m off to make a couple of grilled cheeses and seriously consider calling out of work tomorrow. Unless you want to pick up a shift on the unit and make my day a little less shitty?”

“No thank you,” Christen says, shaking her head quickly. “Good luck peeling me away from the ICU now that I know what it’s like up there.”

“They grow so fast,” Heather says dramatically, holding a hand to her chest as she walks away backwards. “Text me how it goes! Or if you need a getaway car! Dave and I will come save you from the college kids!”

Christen just laughs to herself as she gets in her car. She starts the engine and looks into the rearview mirror to back out, but gets caught up in her reflection for a second. Maybe it’s just because she’s still chuckling at how ridiculous Heather can be - something she never would have expected six months prior, but fully appreciates - but she thinks that she looks happy. She looks like someone who’s moved on and is busy living their own life to the fullest extent, and she’s filled with an unexpected flash of pride. 

She’s proud of herself, and as startling as that realization is, it’s the best one she’s made in years. 

*

“She’s not that bad, I guess.”

It’s the most Christen will give, dipping into Kelley’s bathroom to touch up her makeup. She’s got mascara smeared under her eyes, just a little bit, and she wipes at the residue with the cotton swab that Kelley hands her. Someone’s hooked up their playlist to Kelley’s Bluetooth speaker, and it’s easy to bop along to the loud music as Kelley jumps up to sit on the edge of her counter. She’s got no idea how Kelley manages to throw these things together, or how it’s not against the rules to have at least two dozen college kids in her apartment - they keep coming in and out and Christen swears that surely the place is filled past capacity, and how the fire department hasn’t been alerted yet is beyond her - but she makes a conscious decision to relax for the night and not worry about any of that. 

After all, Christen would like to trust that her best friend has a good head on her shoulders to keep from making any truly poor decisions. She’s got to trust her at some point, Christen thinks, drawing back from the mirror to give herself a once-over. 

“Not that bad?” Kelley asks with a snort, a plastic cup dangling from her fingertips and tucked between her knees. She’s in serious danger of spilling her drink as she swings her legs back and forth, but doesn’t seem to be concerned at all. “High praise coming from you. I guess I should just be thankful that you don’t hate her, then.”

“I mean,” Christen hedges, spinning the cotton swab between her fingers, “do you want me to like her?”

Kelley lifts her drink to take a sip, and Christen suspects that she’s mostly holding the cup to her mouth for show as her throat isn’t moving at all. The fact that Kelley is buying time before answering is enough to force Christen to soften, and she darts around Kelley to throw the cotton swab in the trash before finally getting a response. 

“It would be nice if you did,” Kelley says, and her free hand reaches back to gather her loose hair in a makeshift ponytail. 

“I can try to like her,” Christen offers, knowing that she needs to let go of whatever last bit of resistance she’s been holding onto about this. “She takes up all your free time and I don’t really know her, but I’ll try.”

“She does not take up all my free time,” Kelley grumbles. “That’s a gross exaggeration.”

“Then why haven’t you slept over in ages?” Christen asks, grinning because she knows exactly how Kelley is going to react, and she’s right. Kelley swings a leg out to knock into Christen, but she dodges it easily and grins wider. 

“I thought you didn’t like when I sleep over!” Kelley says accusingly, letting go of her hair so she can point a finger at Christen. “If I’d known you were missing me that badly, I totally would have cleared my schedule for you!”

“I’m just kidding,” Christen says, and she narrowly dodges another kick aimed at her knees. “I just - I didn’t know how serious you were about this.”

Kelley puffs up her cheeks with a long inhale before letting all the air out in one heavy go. 

“I didn’t think I’d like her so much,” Kelley says, eyes fixated on something beyond Christen’s right shoulder. “It seemed like a total joke at first.”

“I just want you to know what you’re doing,” Christen says, trying to be kind. “And I guess I’m just kind of stuck on the stuff that doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“Like what?” Kelley asks with a laugh. 

“The fact that she’s so young,” Christen points out. “And you were literally in charge of supervising her.”

“Not anymore,” Kelley says. “Not for a while now.”

Christen just reaches for Kelley’s cup and takes a swig, coughing at how strong the taste of alcohol is. 

“How are you drinking this?” Christen gets out, wincing. 

“I’m not weak like you are,” Kelley tells her. Then there’s a knock on the door, and she calls out, “Come in!”

Christen angles herself away so the door can get pushed open a bit, Sonnett poking her head in and giggling with a soppy sort of smile on her face. 

“You guys have been in here forever,” Sonnett says, eyes moving between them. “Almost done? Some of us kind of need to get in.” 

“Yeah,” Christen says, opening the door further so she can trade spots with Sonnett. “Come on Kell, let her in.”

“She is in,” Kelley points out, and she doesn’t look like she’s about to budge and Sonnett doesn’t look like she’s there to do anything besides smile at Kelley. Christen lingers for a moment, torn between just letting them do their thing and giving Kelley a hard time about it. 

But her decision is made for her when she watches the way Kelley smiles back down at Sonnett, making grabby hands until she goes to stand between her legs. It’s like Christen isn’t even there, like the door isn’t open and it’s just the two of them, and Christen can’t remember the last time she saw Kelley so completely and utterly focused on one person. There’s something touching about it that makes Christen quietly shut the door behind her, and she takes a moment to just stand there and gather herself. 

Now that Kelley seems to be otherwise occupied, Christen’s going to have to find something else to entertain her. 

She doesn’t see anyone familiar as she makes her way through the living room and to the kitchen, deciding to busy herself with making a new drink that’s more soda than anything. There’s a moment where she seriously considers hiding out in Kelley’s bedroom for the rest of the night, until Kelley emerges from the bathroom and she can say goodbye and head home. After all, she’s only here to support Kelley and whatever the hell kind of relationship she’s got going on. It’s not as though Christen is particularly close to these girls. 

But then there’s a loud commotion from the front of Kelley’s apartment and Christen does her best to stand on her tiptoes and peer over there, trying to see what’s going on. It’s not until it’s too late to make a getaway that she’s confronted with Tobin, carrying a large box - the kind that tends to contain baked goods. Behind her is Lindsey, carrying a shopping bag, and Christen just watches as they come closer, clearly headed in her direction. 

She locks eyes with Tobin ever so briefly before looking away, picking up her cup and pretending to be fully occupied with the need to take a gigantic sip. 

“Hey,” Lindsey says, and Christen nods in acknowledgment as she swallows. “We’ve got the cake! Where are Kelley and Sonny?”

“Um,” Christen says, wiping at her mouth and looking in the direction of the bathroom. “They’re busy, I think.”

“Great,” Lindsey says, rolling her eyes. “You mind if I clear some room for the cake?”

“Sure,” Christen says, and the two of them help move the stacks of cups until there’s enough room for Tobin to slide the box onto the end of the counter. 

“Do you think we should wait for them?” Lindsey asks, and Christen isn’t sure if it’s directed at her or Tobin. She feels an urge to run away, but she remembers what Heather had told her, and stayed rooted to the spot. 

“Probably,” Tobin says, lifting the top off of the low rectangular box to look inside. “Kelley did pay for the cake. I just picked it up.”

“I picked it up too, and I want cake,” Lindsey says, pulling a plastic cake cutter, plastic forks, and paper plates out of the shopping bag still hooked on her wrist. “I’m going to find them - I don’t want to wait.”

Christen busies herself with her drink, assuming that Tobin will follow Lindsey, but that doesn’t happen and she finds herself locked into a somewhat awkward silence. 

Tobin clears her throat as she replaces the top of the box, and Christen chances a closer look at her. She’s dressed casually, almost too casually, in jeans and a t-shirt that make Christen’s long and loose black dress look almost fancy in comparison. 

“Hi,” Tobin says, and Christen lowers her cup from her mouth to smile as much as she feels she should. 

“Hi,” Christen says. “Do you want a drink? Am I in your way?”

“I’m good for now,” Tobin says. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh,” Christen says. “Well, Kelley asked me to drop by. Something about proving that Sonnett isn’t actually all that bad.”

“Ah,” Tobin says with a nod. “Well, she’s not wrong about that. Sonnett is a good one.”

“So I’ve been told,”Christen says with a dip of her head. “I think I’ve been ditched so they can make out on Kelley’s bathroom counter though, so that’s fun.”

“I think they really like each other,” Tobin says, scratching at her left bicep. 

“So it would seem,” Christen says, and there’s something about this imitation of a conversation that feels easier than she would have thought. Tobin doesn’t respond, instead just standing with her right arm folded across her chest, and she looks vulnerable in a way that gives Christen the courage she needs to stay where she is. 

“Do you not like her?” Tobin asks after a very long moment. 

“She’s fine,” Christen says, and then cringes as she hears the way it must sound to anyone else, especially someone who actually knows Sonnett. “I suppose I just haven’t seen Kelley interested in anyone in a while. And the circumstances are a little unusual, you can’t deny that."

“Yeah, but there’s nothing wrong with that,” Tobin says with a shrug. “I mean, Sonnett’s good at playing the jokester role, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She wouldn’t get Kelley in trouble. And they’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I’m trying to reconcile all of that,” Christen says with a half smile, and Tobin gives her one in return, and something about it all feels very mature. 

“Where’s Lindsey?” Christen asks, leaning to the side to try and look for her. “I’m thinking I might have some cake and then head out.”

“I’ll cut you a slice,” Tobin offers, hand immediately leaving her bicep to shoot out and reach for the plastic cutter. “That way you don’t have to wait - I’m sure Kelley won’t hold it against you.”

“No, I want to say goodbye to her,” Christen says, refocusing her gaze on Tobin. “I’ll just wait.”

“Are you good to drive?” Tobin asks, pointedly looking at Christen’s cup while replacing her arm across her chest. 

“This is mostly Diet Coke,” Christen says, rattling the ice inside. “You can see for yourself.”

She extends the cup across the end of the counter and Tobin just shakes her head with a sheepish grin on her face. 

“Nah, I trust you,” she says. 

“I don’t need you to worry about me,” Christen says, and she means for it to be light, but Tobin doesn’t seem to perceive it as such. 

“I know,” Tobin says, a slight frown ruining her grin. “Sorry, I guess I’m just used to looking out for all these kids. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You’re not,” Christen says, and her shoulders feel tense, and she does her best to relax. 

_ It’s just Tobin _ , she tells herself. This doesn’t matter at all. 

“And you don’t have to apologize,” she adds when Tobin doesn’t say anything right away. 

“Okay,” Tobin says. “I just - I’m trying to be better.”

“About apologizing?”

“About being nice,” Tobin says, and she almost looks embarrassed. “I know I haven’t always been good about that.”

Christen isn’t sure if continuing this is in either of their best interests, but she feels secure enough in herself to keep talking. 

“I think we had a tendency to bring out the worst in each other,” she says carefully. “Especially towards the end.”

“Yeah,” Tobin says with a self deprecating smile. “Probably.”

Christen is saved from having to respond by Lindsey’s reappearance. She’s got Sonnett at her elbow and Kelley isn’t far behind, and Christen is secretly relieved to note that they all look very composed. 

“Okay,” Kelley hollers out, barely audible to everyone over the loud music. “Who wants cake?”

Christen manages to get herself a sizable edge piece of marbled chocolate and vanilla cake, and the first forkful of buttercream is entirely too sweet in a way that coats her tongue. It takes her back to elementary school birthday parties and she smiles as she leans against the back counter of Kelley’s kitchen, listening to Rose and Mal bicker over who gets a corner piece. 

“I’m going to eat all four corner pieces if you two don’t shut up,” Kelley threatens them. “You’ll take what you get, and you won’t complain.”

They go quiet nearly immediately, and Christen chuckles to herself as she continues to eat her cake. She feels unusually calm, and when Tobin comes over to lean next to her, she doesn’t even blink. A part of her wants to know why Tobin has invited herself into Christen’s space, but she knows that it most likely means nothing in the grand scheme of things, and so she doesn’t ask. 

“Kelley says you’ve been doing well,” Tobin says, low in a way that would be so easy to miss if Christen wanted to ignore her. Instead, she clears her throat and pokes her fork at her cake as she responds. 

“I have,” Christen says. “I’m in the ICU now, so that’s cool.”

And then, out of politeness more than anything - 

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been good,” Tobin says, and it’s not heavy, but it’s not exactly light either. “You - you gave me a lot of things to think about, you know.”

Christen doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Tobin goes on, setting her untouched cake to the side, on the edge of Kelley’s sink, and Christen glances at it, afraid that it will tip over, before focusing on her own plate. “I’ve been a hypocrite, and cold, and a coward, and you didn’t deserve any of that.”

“I don’t think - ” Christen tries to say, but Tobin interrupts. 

“Can I say this?” she asks, imploringly. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, about everything I should have said a long time ago.” 

Christen just nods, the frosting stuck in her throat growing even thicker. 

“I know I ruined things,” Tobin says, and it’s so sure, like it’s not even up for debate, and it’s comforting in a weird way. “And I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know how to deal with everything. And I know that this doesn’t excuse anything, but that first Christmas when I went home, I was a mess with my parents and my family. I felt like I was just a giant disappointment to everyone, and I lashed out and yelled and it was so awful. We had this huge fight, and all I could think about was how much I wanted you to make it all feel better, and that was so fucking  _ scary _ for me.”

“I didn’t know,” Christen says. 

“I didn’t tell you,” Tobin says. “I didn’t want to think about how I had never been in love before, and there was this beautiful girl who deserved the world, and I couldn’t even get it together for her. So I thought that maybe being home was a trigger for me.”

“You haven’t been back since,” Christen says slowly, something slotting into place, and Tobin nods in confirmation. 

“I thought that if I stayed away from everything that made me feel bad, that reminded me of everything shitty that was happening in my life, that I would be okay,” Tobin continues calmly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “But that’s a really bad coping mechanism. Because it got to a point where I was going to have to deal with how I felt about you, but then you’d been in my life long enough that I wanted to open up to you, and I started associating you with everything shitty.”

Christen isn’t in the mood for cake anymore. 

“And I know that’s not okay,” Tobin says, and her voice is steady but thin, like she’s confident in what she’s saying but scared to put it all out there for the first time. “And I spent months and months leaning on you, and slapping a bandaid on everything that was wrong, instead of actually working on healing myself. It was traumatic, to have my world crash down like that around me, and I didn’t know that for a very long time.”

“Do you know that now?” Christen asks unnecessarily. 

“Yeah, I do,” Tobin says, and she sounds a bit stronger. “I know that I can’t just pretend that my problems aren’t there, no matter how much they hurt me. I have to deal with them. So I’m trying to do that.”

“That’s good,” Christen says, and she means it. “You deserve happiness.”

Tobin smiles, and it’s just a bit sad. 

“I’m sorry I did that to us,” she says. “I was too scared to make you mine, but I didn’t want you to be anyone else’s. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“Kelley told me you’ve been seeing people,” Christen says, and she’s not entirely sure why she does. 

“Yeah,” Tobin says a bit self consciously. “Yeah, I guess I’m trying to normalize my life again. See what it’s like to feel healed, and put all the bad shit behind me.”

“That’s good,” Christen repeats. 

“I feel like a hypocrite,” Tobin says, with a laugh, and Christen smiles despite herself. “I ruined everything because you were trying to be normal, and put the bad shit behind you. Except I was the bad shit, and it made me so angry. I’m sorry I was so awful about it.”

“It’s okay,” Christen says. “I’ve been dating too. And it’s not like we have any claim over each other. I don’t want you to be sorry about it.”

“You’re too good,” Tobin says, quietly. “Too nice.”

“I’m really not,” Christen says, but something inside of her feels pride at the acknowledgment. “I’m just trying my best, to be the best I can be.”

“Yeah,” Tobin says with an exhale, reaching for her untouched cake. “Yeah, I’m trying to do that too.”

When Kelley comes flouncing over, she’s got frosting smeared on her cheek and an insanely wide grin on her face. 

“Hi,” she says, and she quickly kisses Christen’s cheek, and then Tobin’s. “Fuck, why am I always doing that?”

“Hi, Kell,” Tobin says. 

“Are you two friends now?” Kelley asks, and there’s a hint of judgment in her eyes, and Christen feels the need to quell it immediately. 

“No,” Christen denies, and she looks over at Tobin who looks surprised, but not very much so. “No, we’re not friends. We’re just...being civil.”

“Yeah,” Tobin echoes. “We’re being civil.”

Kelley’s eyes narrow for a half a second, but then her name is being called, and her attention is immediately diverted. 

“I think I’m needed elsewhere,” she says. “You mind if I - ”

“Actually,” Christen says, pushing up to stand on her own, “I think I’m going to head out. Is that alright?”

Kelley pouts but doesn’t protest. 

“You good to drive?” she asks, kissing Christen’s cheek again. “You have a good time?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Christen assures her. “Yeah, I’m good to go. Look, you have a good rest of your night, and I’ll see you next week. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kelley says, beaming. “Love you!”

“Love you too,” Christen says, and she ditches what’s left of her cake in the trash and finds her keys all without looking back at Tobin once. She’s feeling proud of herself, and on her way out of the apartment, she catches Sonnett who is busy trying to adjust the volume on Kelley’s Bluetooth speaker. 

“Hey,” Christen says, trying to be nice. “Congratulation on the degree.”

“Thanks,” Sonnett says, and her eyes crinkle at the edges when she grins, and maybe Christen doesn’t understand, but maybe this isn’t something that she needs to understand. Maybe all that matters is Kelley being happy, regardless of who else that might involve. “Thanks for coming! It’s always really good to see you.”

Christen smiles back at her. 

“Be good to Kelley,” she tells her, glancing at her best friend who is currently attempting to wrestle a very confused Sam back inside and off the balcony. Sonnett follows her gaze. “She’s my best friend, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sonnett says. “I’m not trying to like, interfere with that or anything. Just so you know.”

Christen surveys her for a second. 

“Alright,” she settles. “Well, then I guess we’re about to see a bit more of each other then. Now that you’re done with school.”

“I guess so,” Sonnett says, and she’s fully smiling now, in a way that isn’t just because of the cake or the alcohol or the accomplishment. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I don’t plan on it,” Christen tells her, there’s a moment where she isn’t sure if she should hug Sonnett, or shake her hand, or clap a hand over her shoulder. She settles on a wave though, one that’s eagerly returned, and as she leaves the apartment, she feels like she’s gained something that she didn’t have when she entered earlier. 

She’s not sure what that something is, but she’ll figure it out later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying hard to turn this around while still letting it feel natural, and not too rushed or anything, so let me know how i'm doing with that! i really appreciate all of your feedback.


	14. MONOPOLY

“A black coffee,” Christen says, holding out a grande Starbucks cup once she’s comfortably settled into the passenger seat of Heather’s car.

“Got it,” Kelley says, reaching out her hands from the backseat in a ‘give me’ motion.

“And this looks like a flat white,” Christen says, peering at the paper slip attached to the other cup. “Heather?”

“Yeah,” Heather says, taking her right hand off the wheel to accept the drink. “What did you get?”

“Christen is boring,” Kelley says, much louder than necessary considering that Heather had turned down the music when Christen had gotten back into the car. “She always gets the same thing here.”

“I like their chai lattes,” Christen says defensively, cradling her cup in her hands. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s like you’re stuck in 2010,” Kelley says as Heather begins to back out of the parking spot she’d barely managed to snag - in classic LA fashion, someone is already impatiently beeping at her to hurry up so they can pull in.

“It’s almost like I didn’t just treat you to a coffee,” Christen says. 

“Oh yeah, black coffee,” Kelley says sarcastically, finally leaning back into her seat. “So expensive and luxurious. I’m sure it made a dent in your bank account.”

Christen rolls her eyes as Heather snickers, and if she wasn’t in the process of making sure the correct location was programmed into Heather’s GPS, she’d seriously think about reaching to slap Kelley’s cup out of her hand. 

“Remind me why we had to come here again?” Kelley questions out loud. “And why we didn’t go to my favorite place?”

“Because you were running late, and we had to grab something quickly,” Heather says. “Was the extra sleep worth it?”

“It’s not like we’re on a schedule,” Kelley says with a shrug. “Does it really matter what time we get to this thing?”

Christen just sips at her drink, nearly burning her tongue with how hot it is. 

“I did kind of say I’d be there to help set up,” Heather says, sharing a look with Christen, one that communicates that they’re on the same page regarding how ridiculous Kelley is being. “But if you have something else you’d rather be doing…”

“No,” Kelley says quickly, kicking her feet up into the back of Christen’s seat, digging into her spine most uncomfortably. “No, I’m super excited for this. I mean, how often do I get a look into what Christen does at work?”

“Never, because you’ve hated my job since I started,” Christen points out. “And besides - it’s not like we’re about to be starting lines or giving medications or anything. It’s just a fundraiser. Now get your feet off of Heather’s seat.”

“Yeah,” Heather echoes, glancing at Kelley in the rearview mirror. “Get your feet off my seat.”

Kelley groans before acquiescing, and the rest of the car ride is spent answering Kelley’s inane questions about what exactly the day has in store for them. 

“So I’m not going to get to look in on any surgeries?” Kelley asks in disbelief, hopping out of the car once Heather is parked in a gravel lot. “No bloody gunshot wounds?”

“This isn’t an episode of Grey’s Anatomy,” Heather says, popping open the trunk and pulling things out. “We’re just here to provide information and sell donuts. Now here, take these supplies over to our booth.”

“How am I supposed to know which booth is yours?” Kelley complains, taking the box of pamphlets with more ease than Christen would have managed. “I can’t believe this. I thought I was giving up my Saturday morning to see some exciting stuff!”

“What would you have been doing instead?” Christen asks, grabbing a box with some of the supplies to set up their booth, while Heather tucks some signs under her arms before elbowing the trunk closed. “It’s not like you work a nine-to-five.”

“I enjoy my free time,” Kelley says indignantly as they make their way to the cluster of booths set up at the endpoint of the half-marathon that’s being held for one cancer or another. It’s far too early, just past seven, and the sun has only barely started to rise high enough in the sky to illuminate the field. Christen doesn’t exactly blame Kelley for being grumpy about the circumstances, but she had agreed to come alone - it wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own that she hadn’t listened to the game plan for the day. 

Amy and Lauren are already at the booth with boxes of freebies like pens and lip balms, all emblazoned with the hospital’s logo, and Christen helps them set up in relative silence. Kelley is too chipper for so early in the morning, so she gets put in charge of handing out water bottles to the runners before they head to the start of the run. Heather and Lauren hand out most of the pamphlets and Amy’s husband brings her kids by, and Christen smiles as they chase each other in circles and repeatedly ask where the donuts are. 

“We’re going to pick them up closer to the end of the race,” Amy explains patiently. 

It’s nearly nine when Amy and her family head off to pick up their massive Krispy Kreme order, and Lauren takes a lap around the other booths to check out what everyone else is offering. 

“Isn’t it ironic that we’re representing a hospital, and yet we’re giving people donuts?” Kelley asks, stifling a yawn as she seems to slow down for the first time in hours. Up until now she’s been running around with Amy’s boys, playing some kind of tag and lamenting the fact that she didn’t have a soccer ball to kick around with them.

“Welcome to healthcare,” Heather says, sitting in one of the folding chairs they’ve got. Christen has claimed the other for herself, leaving Kelley to balance precariously on the edge of the display table. 

“At least you like your new job better,” Kelley says, kicking a sneaker-covered toe into Christen’s knee. “And Amy and Lauren seem cool.”

“I think you got dirt on me,” Christen says, looking at her knee. “God, it’s hot out.”

“Feels like ninety-one,” Heather says. “That’s what we get for volunteering in June. At least we get clinical hours for this.”

“I’m not doing it this year,” Christen says, shaking her head. “I’m still trying to get used to the ICU, I couldn’t handle the clinical ladder program on top of that. Maybe next year.”

“You’re lucky,” Heather says, pulling the fabric of her shirt away from her front in an attempt to get some air flowing. “At least one of the daytime charge nurses has to do it.”

Christen makes a sympathetic noise.

“I have no idea what you two are talking about,” Kelley says.

“I could explain it to you,” Heather offers, but Kelley’s face just screws up in disgust. 

“No thanks,” she says. “Not unless it involves a traumatic thunderstorm or mudslide or something.”

“What is with the Grey’s Anatomy references?” Christen asks, squinting at Kelley as the sun shines from behind her head. They’re seated under a small tent, but Christen isn’t sure that it’s enough to keep her from getting too much sun. “Are you binge-watching it on Netflix?”

“Em and Lindsey are,” Kelley says, and Heather pulls a face. 

“ _ Em _ ,” Heather mimics, and Kelley scowls at her. “So what, does that mean you have to watch it too?”

“It does if I want to spend any quality time with her anymore,” Kelley huffs, and Christen sees right through it. 

“Please,” Christen says, stretching her arms out in front of her, feeling her elbows crack with the motion. “You just want as much time with her as you can get. You wouldn’t sit there through it if you didn’t want to.”

“It’s all they do!” Kelley protests, but there’s no heat to it. “They’re spending all their money on rent and Netflix, and Em won’t let me take her out if she can’t pay, so it’s either spend time at mine and make Lindsey mad for stealing her best friend, or spend time at theirs and watch Grey’s all night.” 

“You’re obsessed,” Heather says, sending a wink at Christen who shoots her a smile in return. 

“You’ve also clearly forgotten what it’s like to be fresh out of college,” Christen adds. “It’s going to take them a while to make decent money in this town.”

“I know,” Kelley says, rolling her eyes fondly. “And I like hanging out with them. But I’m not  _ obsessed.” _

“You’re obsessed with Grey’s Anatomy, at the very least,” Christen tells her. “You need to get out of their apartment.”

“I’m picturing it now,” Heather says, holding up her thumbs and index fingers to form a picture frame. She squints at Kelley through the makeshift rectangle, and Christen giggles. “Dorito crumbs in between the couch cushions. Burnt ramen in the trash. One of you fanning fumes away from the smoke detector as the microwave door swings back and forth.”

“Stop,” Kelley says loudly, cheeks red. “Christen, don’t laugh, it’s not funny!”

“All the lights off to save on electricity,” Heather continues, scooting her chair away to avoid Kelley’s kicking feet. “Sonnett only going to yours so she can take a hot shower. Old textbooks propping up the tv, which definitely doesn’t have cable.”

“Listen,” Kelley says, looking like she’s five seconds from jumping down and strangling Heather. “They have Netflix  _ and _ Hulu, and Lindsey would never let a packet of ramen enter the apartment.”

“Fine,” Heather concedes. “Lots of peanut butter and jelly smeared on the counters, then.”

Christen’s stomach hurts with how hard she’s laughing, and Heather does her best to keep a safe distance from a violent Kelley. 

“You need to get out of there,” Heather tells her. “Come to another karaoke night or something - we’ve got one next week, right Christen?”

“In two weeks,” Christen corrects, wheezing slightly as she holds up two fingers. “She’s right, Kelley. You should come. You were such a hit last time. Maybe if you come, everyone will forget about forcing me on stage.”

“You do a lovely Destiny’s Child,” Heather says. “I have no clue what you’re complaining about.”

“That’s actually not a half bad idea,” Kelley says thoughtfully, the color in her cheeks slowly receding as she comes over to Christen, slowly lowering herself to sit on her thighs. 

“Who gave you permission to sit in my lap?” Christen asks, but it goes ignored. 

“Maybe I could bring Sonnett,” Kelley suggests. “Finally go on something resembling an actual date.”

“Do it,” Heather encourages. “Ali and Ashlyn do it and call it date night, so why can’t you?”

“We pay a group fee anyway, so tell her not to worry about paying,” Christen says as she shifts Kelley’s hips to keep her bony ass from digging in too hard. “Two Saturdays from today - you’re not busy, are you?”

“I don’t even care if I am,” Kelley says. “I don’t care if she is, we’re going. I’m literally going to explode if I spend one more night in their apartment.”

“I’m mildly concerned,” Heather says. “Is it actually as bad as you’re making me think?”

“No, you’re just being mean,” Kelley tells her, leaning back against Christen. “They live in a nice place and I’m pretty sure Lindsey has been buying organic bananas, so they’re fine.”

“Yeah, Heather,” Christen says, finally accepting Kelley’s weight and her inevitable crushing. “They might be living like monkeys, but they’re fine.”

“You think you’re so funny,” Kelley mumbles, pulling her phone out of her sports bra. In the split second before it’s angled away from her line of vision, Christen catches a glimpse of several texts from Sonnett, and she presses a grin into the side of Kelley’s head. 

“I am funny,” Christen says. “Right, Heather?”

“Very funny,” Heather confirms. “Just not as hilarious as I am. Okay, I think I see donuts!”

“Finally,” Christen says, shoving at Kelley. “Move, I want one while they’re hot.”

“Fine, fine,” Kelley says, and her eyes remain glued to her phone as her fingers zoom across the keyboard. “Enjoy your sugar bomb.”

Christen leaves Kelley in the chair so she can eagerly open the first box Amy passes her, and along with Heather and Lauren and Amy’s boys, they manage to polish off an entire box within minutes. However, Christen does snag the last one to present to Kelley. 

“Because you deserve more than ramen,” Christen says, and she knows she’s going to pay for it later, but it’s worth the sour expression on Kelley’s face as she snatches the donut away and shoves it in her mouth regardless. 

*

Christen is laughing with Ashlyn when it happens. 

It’s not a particularly big group of them this time, which works out well considering that Christen doesn’t want Sonnett to be overwhelmed by everyone. 

(And perhaps she also doesn’t want all of her coworkers asking questions about why Kelley is dating someone approximately six years younger than she is, but she knows she needs to get past that.)

She hates that it always has to be a thing for her, but she’s long since accepted - with some of Heather’s help, of course - that this is just how it’s going to be for a very long time. Some things stick and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, not if Christen doesn’t let it be. She can allow her past to be what it is while still moving forward, and acknowledging what she’s been through and how it can still affect her doesn’t make her weak. 

Ashlyn is showing Christen pictures of the new puppy she’s gotten with Ali when it happens. 

“I could have sworn there was a video,” Ashlyn says, swiping between photos on her phone. “Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth while she slept, and she was definitely snoring - Ali, babe, do you have the video? I want to show Christen.”

“I love her,” Christen says, looking at the screen as Ashlyn pauses on a shot of the puppy on it’s back, oversized paws adorably posed in the air with her belly exposed. “She’s so cute, it reminds me of my dogs back home. How big do you think she’ll get?”

“Here,” Ali says, the two martinis she’s had already making her voice change, and Christen knows it’s only a matter of time before she’s up on the stage with Heather egging her on to sing a little Mariah Carey. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to hear in here, but she’s definitely snoring.”

She’s giving Christen her phone, and Christen turns the volume way up before pressing play. 

“She’s adorable,” Christen says. “I can’t hear though, maybe - ”

“Put it up to your ear,” Ali insists, leaning over the table between the two of them and attempting to help Christen press the phone speaker to her right ear. It gets the job done, and if Christen strains, she can just barely make out the little snuffling noises. 

“Oh my,” Christen says, glancing at Ashlyn who starts laughing with her as Ali fumbles in an attempt to steady herself. “You guys! You have a puppy!”

“I know!” Ashlyn exclaims. “Isn’t she the best little thing?”

Christen is giggling and passing the phone back to Ali when it happens. 

She sees Lindsey first, sees her over Ali’s shoulder, angling her head down to whisper something in Sonnett’s ear. Whatever it is makes Sonnett go red in the face, and Lindsey straightens her neck as she cackles at whatever is said in return. Of course, the way she moves her head combined with the angle that she’s walking towards the group in, allows Christen to see Kelley, and more importantly, who’s beside her. 

It’s Tobin, clutching her leather jacket and nodding at what Kelley is saying. 

It looks like she’s gotten a haircut, Christen thinks absently, and it suits her. She directs her gaze back to Ali and Ashlyn, hoping that she hasn’t acted in a way that would arouse any suspicion or questions, and thankfully, neither of them seem to realize that anything strange has happened. And really, nothing strange has happened. The only thing that has happened is that Christen has spotted someone that she didn’t expect to see, but she can handle that just fine, and she glances up again to see that the quartet is closer, close enough for her to wave to Kelley and have the gesture returned. 

It occurs to Christen several moments too late that Kelley could have warned her about Tobin’s presence, but perhaps the fact that she hadn’t is a good thing. Perhaps it means that Tobin is no longer someone that Christen needs to be warned against, and she’s okay with that. In fact, she’s rather pleased with that fact, and rather than sit and hide and avoid the situation until forced to confront it, she excuses herself to get up. 

“I think my guests are here,” Christen says to Ali and Ashlyn, getting up and gesturing as Sonnett and Lindsey approach rather hesitantly. “You guys met Kelley before, I don’t know if you remember - ”

“Of course we do,” Ali says, smiling widely. 

“And then she works with Tobin, and they used to coach these two, but nowadays I think Kelley just uses them for their Netflix.”

“Oh, totally,” Lindsey says with an exaggerated nod. “Now, Kelley told me that our first drinks were on you, so I’m going to hold someone to that.”

“Sorry,” Kelley says, darting past Sonnett to squeeze Christen in greeting, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Shit, Em - look away.”

“You have a problem,” Christen tells her. “And you’re lucky I’m nice and don’t want to be mean enough to have your girlfriend to hate me - ”

“Oh,” Sonnett stammers, turning red again. “No, I’m not - I won’t hate you!”

Christen just grins and reaches for her wallet, handing her debit card over. 

“Don’t go crazy,” she tells Lindsey, who tucks the plastic in the palm of her hand. “Don’t lose it, and get me something good.”

“Awesome,” Lindsey says, using her free hand to roughly grab Sonnett’s upper arm. “Come on, let’s get something good.”

They’re gone in a flash, Kelley pouting after them as they head to the bar. 

“Anyway,” Christen says loudly, and she can hear Heather’s voice grow louder from behind her, talking to Ashlyn about something, but she doesn’t bother to turn around. “Really, Kelley?”

“She wouldn’t have let me,” Kelley says defensively. “She’s like, strangely independent.”

“That’s probably one reason you like her,” Tobin points out, and it’s the first thing she’s said, and Christen’s eyes flit over to her reflexively before jumping back to Kelley.

“Yeah, maybe,” Kelley says reluctantly. “But it would be nice if she let me do something for her every once in a while. It’s gotten even worse since graduation - something about trying to be a real adult.”

“Who’s going to tell her that none of us are real adults?” Heather says, wrapping her left arm around Christen’s shoulders. She extends her right to Tobin, who looks surprised but accepts it anyway. “I’m Heather - I used to be Christen’s boss, but now I’m just her biggest fan.”

“Heather,” Christen says, cheeks growing warm. “Shouldn’t you be pushing Ali on stage right about now?”

“Hi, I’m Tobin,” Tobin says, and she’s so easygoing as she lets go of Heather’s hand. “I work with Kelley.”

Heather’s grip tightens on Christen’s shoulder, and Christen knows it’s a silent question, so she just taps the toes of their shoes together. She’s not sure that the motion will go understood, but she hopes that Heather knows what she means. 

_ I’m okay,  _ Christen thinks.  _ I don’t need help, I’m okay. _

“Well, you’ve got to sing something,” Heather announces. “Both of you. And Kelley - where’s your girlfriend? Pinoe and I have dreamed up something for you to sing together.”

“Absolutely not,” Kelley says, shaking her head. “I’d like to still be on speaking terms with her before the night ends, thank you very much.”

“Where are the songs we can sing?” Tobin asks, and Heather looks at her with eyebrows raised. “I’m not a very good singer, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Yeah, of course,” Heather says, removing her arm from around Christen and motioning to where Ashlyn and Pinoe are looking through their options. “Come over here, I’ll show you what we’ve got. Now, last time Syd did an excellent rendition of Back to Black, so you definitely won’t be topping that any time soon, but - ”

Kelley steps closer once it’s just her and Christen left.

“Are you two actually dating?” Christen asks curiously, looking at where Sonnett and Lindsey are standing across the way. “Because sometimes you don’t act like it.”

“Of course we’re dating,” Kelley splutters, and it’s so uncharacteristic that it takes Christen by surprise. “Alright, okay - I know what you mean. I think we’ve gotten used to the circumstances in private, but she’s not used to being public like this. You know?”

“Fair,” Christen allows. “Is that why she needs Lindsey?”

“Yeah,” Kelley says with a shrug. “She asked, something about being worried about me hanging out with you and Heather too much. As if I would abandon her like that. So I said yes, and then Horan said something about not wanting to be a third wheel, and then Emily suggested Tobin.”

“Sonnett knows that Tobin and I - ”

“Yes she knows,” Kelley says. “She forgets, though. I don’t know that Lindsey knows, so I kind of gave her a hard time about it when Lindsey left the room, and she felt bad and offered to tell Lindsey not to invite her.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Christen says with a shrug. “I mean, I can handle it. It doesn’t need to be a thing.”

“Are you sure?” Kelley asks, and it’s not often that she’s genuinely concerned, but she seems to be for the moment. 

“Yeah,” Christen promises. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal. A heads up would have been nice, though.”

“I’m not really sure of how to deal with it,” Kelley admits. “I don’t want you two being toxic for each other, but I don’t want to do the wrong thing.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Christen says. “I know you’re over all the drama, but there isn’t any. I don’t want the drama, trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Kelley says, but there’s still something not quite settled in her eyes. 

Christen doesn’t know what to say to make Kelley feel better about it, but she’s saved the trouble of racking her brains for something when Lindsey and Sonnett reappear. 

“Thank you,” Lindsey says, passing Christen something pink along with her debit card. “You’re much better than Rose and Mal, who make us bring our own water bottles if we’re going to hang out at theirs.”

“They’re so lovely,” Kelley says sarcastically. “I see you didn’t get me anything.”

“I didn’t want to do anything to make Christen hate me,” Sonnett explains, letting Kelley take a swig from her beer. “I had a feeling that buying you a drink on her dime wouldn’t exactly curry any favor with her.”

“You were right,” Christen says. “Smart choice.”

“Well now you’ve got to come with me to get my own beer,” Kelley says. “So you screwed yourself over.”

“I don’t mind going with you,” Sonnett says, sounding slightly exasperated. “Lindsey?”

“I’m fine,” Lindsey says, waving her on. “This is why I brought Tobin - you two go.”

“Thanks for the permission,” Kelley says saccharinely, and Lindsey just flips her off before motioning towards where Tobin is already sitting next to Pinoe and flipping through the available songs.

“I’m going to make sure I’m not actually expected to sing,” Lindsey says. 

“Just stay away from Heather if you want to avoid it,” Christen advises her. 

“Heather?”

“The slightly crazy looking one with the margarita,” Christen says. “I think she’s about to convince Ali to sing though, and I’m not missing that for the world.”

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Lindsey says, and Christen nods before heading to find Ashlyn and made sure they land a prime spot from which they can tape another one of Ali’s performances. 

“I hope your phone still has battery after showing everyone all five thousand pictures of your dog,” Christen says, knocking Ashlyn’s arm with hers as she lifts her drink to her mouth. 

“I can’t believe you’re questioning me,” Ashlyn says. “Especially when she’s going to sing Touch My Body.”

“Wow,” Christen says, eyes going wide. “Okay, let’s go - I need to see this.”

The performance is everything Christen and Ashlyn could hope for it to be, and then some. Tobin somehow gets Lindsey and Sonnett to sing a Backstreet Boys song with her, and while waiting for Kelley and Heather to go onstage, Christen finds herself sitting across from Tobin. 

“Are you having a good time?” Christen asks, and really, it’s the first thing they’ve said to each other tonight. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

“I don’t mind,” Tobin says with a casual shrug. She’s got her jacket slung over the back of her chair and a recently-drained beer bottle in front of her. “It was kind of fun, actually. Reminds me of that time you told me about your college adventures in karaoke.”

“Oh, yeah,” Christen says, internally cringing at the memory. “That was a while ago.”

“Doesn’t seem that long ago,” Tobin says, and maybe Christen imagines the way that her eyes seem to linger on Christen’s fingers as she plays with the cocktail straw in her drink. 

“I can’t believe you got Lindsey to go up there with you,” Christen says, changing the subject. “She really sounded like she didn’t want to.”

“I think that was more Sonnett’s doing than mine,” Tobin says modestly. “She can be very convincing when she wants to be.”

“Is that how she got Kelley to go out with her?” Christen jokes, looking at where Sonnett is letting Kelley hang off of her from their post near the stage while completely ignoring Lindsey, who is fully immersed in her phone while leaning against the wall. 

“Probably, but I don’t know too much of the story there,” Tobin says, resting an elbow on the table so she can prop her head up in her hand, neck angled so she can watch them, same as Christen is. “Haven’t bothered to ask.”

“Kelley tends to hold her cards pretty close to the chest,” Christen says, remember how Kelley has always been, since the beginning of college. “At least, she does when she really cares about something.”

“Yeah,” Tobin agrees, looking at Christen again. “But as long as she’s happy, right?”

“Right,” Christen says. 

A silence falls between them, and Christen is almost surprised by how normal it feels. If she’d been asked a few months beforehand, she wouldn’t have been able to imagine this situation playing out the way it has so far. She thought that there would only be a few occasions where she would happen to run into Tobin, and those occasions would be more awkward than anything, regardless of how much she felt she was over everything that happened between them. 

However, it almost feels like she’s got an acquaintance sitting across from her. It’s similar to how she’d felt with Ali and Heather when they first started hanging out outside of work, before she felt confident enough to call them friends. It’s nice, almost, in a way where Christen can realize that in order for the both of them to get to this point, they’ve grown up and matured a lot in the last six months. 

Because it’s not just Christen contributing to the comfortable silence - Tobin is too. As much legwork as she feels like she’s done, as much effort as she’s put in to getting past everything, and as hard as she’s worked to give herself a life than she can enjoy and be proud of, Christen knows that this right here isn’t just her. Tobin has done something too, and maybe Christen doesn’t know that details, but that part of it all doesn’t exactly matter. What matters is that Tobin is sitting across from her in a completely normal way, humming along to whatever song is currently being sung, and tapping her fingers against her jawline. 

When she catches Christen’s eye, she smiles questioningly. 

For a brief moment, Christen wants to know all about the kind of effort that Tobin has been putting into her life. But she doesn’t need to know, and for as much progress as she has made, learning about Tobin’s life isn’t going to further that for her. Christen has her own life, and maybe they’re capable of being friendly with each other when they happen to cross paths, but is doesn’t need to be more than that. 

It shouldn’t be more than that. 

So Christen smiles back. It’s a small smile, but one nevertheless, and Tobin’s own smile evens out for a second before she’s back to looking at the current performer. 

“I think I’m going to get another one,” Tobin says, motioning to her empty beer as the song ends. “Try and get back here before Kelley goes on.”

“Good idea,” Christen says before taking a sip of her drink. The ice is half-melted, as it’s the one she’s been holding onto ever since Lindsey had brought it to her, but she hasn’t been in any rush to finish it or order another. 

“Do you want me to get you something?” Tobin asks. 

“No thanks,” Christen says, and maybe it’s a little too quick. 

“Are you sure?” Tobin asks. “Not even a water or something?”

Christen hesitates for a second as Tobin gets up from her chair. 

“Maybe a Diet Coke?” Christen asks. “If it’s no trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Tobin reassures her, and for some reason, her grin is wide and genuine. “Do you mind watching my jacket while I’m gone?”

“I can do that,” Christen says, and she goes to reach for her wallet. “Hold on just one second, I put my card away - ”

“Oh, don’t bother,” Tobin says, waving a hand dismissively. “This one is on me.”

Christen’s mouth automatically sags into a slight frown.

“Are you sure?” she asks, fingers stilling on the leather. “You don’t need to buy me my drink.”

“I offered,” Tobin points out. “And besides - It’s just a soda. It’s not like you’re ordering some expensive cocktail.”

Christen vacillates over the decision, trying to decide if this is something she would let someone else do for her - someone else that she maybe isn’t very close to, and eventually concedes. 

“Okay,” she says, zipping her wallet back up and putting it away. “If you’re sure it’s okay with you.”

“It’s more than okay,” Tobin says. “I’ll be back - hopefully sooner rather than later!”

Christen lets out a short laugh as Tobin laughs away, and it feels more perfunctory than anything, but it serves as a reminder that this isn’t anything strange. This is something she’s done at some point with everyone who has ever become her friend. There’s always a bit of a strange stage at first where Christen struggles to find her footing, struggles to determine what the dynamic is going to be like, but when she’s able to land on level ground, she manages to make a friend. Maybe that’s what this is going to be like, she thinks, tilting her glass up to her mouth to slide one of the watery ice cubes inside. She crunches on it and then sucks on the shards until they’re all gone, and then repeats the process with the remaining ice cubes.

“So,” Ali says, flopping down in the seat next to Christen, nudging her perhaps a touch too aggressively. She’s endearingly tipsy, however, so Christen just brushes it off.

“So,” Christen returns. 

Ali doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Is she your date?”

Christen’s laughs in surprise.

“No way,” she says, shaking her head. “No, she’s just Kelley’s friend.”

“I’m just asking, because you brought a date last time,” Ali says, leaning heavily onto Christen. 

“How many dates do you think I go on?” Christen asks rhetorically, adjusting to allow for Ali’s weight. “I’m not that popular romantically.”

“You should be,” Ali says. “I mean, you’re the total package.”

Christen nearly snorts. 

“Sure,” is all she says though, knowing that it’s pointless to argue when Ali has made up her mind about something. 

“I mean, you’re pretty,” Ali continues. “And you always smell like flowers and sweet candy.”

Christen sighs, tucking Ali closer into her side and wondering where Ashlyn has gone, and why she’s unexpectedly been stuck with Ali duty. 

“Sometimes it’s about more than that,” Christen says. 

“Still,” Ali mumbles. “Doesn’t hurt to go on dates.”

“Says the girl who hasn’t dated someone new in literal years,” Christen says. “You and Heather - you guys keep trying to give me dating advice. Nevermind that she’s married, and you’re as good as. It’s not like it used to be, you know.”

“It shouldn’t be hard,” Ali says, and when Christen goes to protest, Ali just shakes her head and sits up straighter. “No, listen to me. It really shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have to force it to make it work.”

“Oh,” Christen says on an exhale. “Well, you’re probably right about that.”

Christen’s first thought is the girl she’d brought to karaoke night last month, who had chosen a vaguely offensive song to sing and then proceeded to ask Christen how she planned on making a relationship work with a schedule as strange as hers. Perhaps they hadn’t been major red warning flags, but they’d been warning enough for Christen to regret inviting her out to such a public place for their third date. There hadn’t been a fourth date, but Christen had been okay with that. 

What she is less okay with is the way her second thought is Tobin, and how things had been so hard the entire time. She’d definitely tried to force that, Christen muses, before shoving it from her mind. 

“I’m right about a lot of things,” Ali says wisely, tapping her temple. “Like I knew that girl wasn’t right for you.”

“Did you?” Christen asks. 

“Yeah,” Ali says, nodding as she relaxes back into Christen’s side. Tobin comes back at that moment, and for a tortuously long moment, Christen panics about what Ali is going to say next and what Tobin will think about it. 

The last thing she wants is for anything to go wrong and ruin the lovely night she’s been having, and it makes her anxious, but it turns out that she’s worrying over nothing. 

Because Tobin slides Christen a glass full of fizzy cola and sits down with her beer, and Ali doesn’t say anything awful and Tobin doesn’t do anything she shouldn’t. 

“Thanks,” Christen says, and Tobin just smiles in return.

“She wasn’t good for you,” Ali says as Tobin takes a long pull from her drink. “She was too wild, in the wrong sort of way. Too loud and brash, and you need someone gentler.”

“What are we talking about?” Tobin says, wiping at the corners of her mouth. 

“Christen’s date last time,” Ali informs her. Tobin glances at Christen with a relatively blank expression, and Christen just shrugs before looking at Ali significantly. “And how I can tell what makes for a good relationship.”

“Ah,” Tobin says. “And what is that?”

“Well,” Ali says, squinting at Tobin, “I don’t know you very well at all, so I don’t know too much about you.”

“She’s not asking for relationship advice, Ali,” Christen says, just grateful that they’re moving on from her personal experiences. “She doesn’t expect you to be able to read her and know what she needs.”

“I know,” Ali says. “But there are a lot of universal factors that make for a good relationship. Like trust, and accountability, and a willingness to adapt. Ash and I never would have made it this long if we hadn’t been willing to adjust our mindsets and work on our toxic behaviors. We’ve been together a long time, you know. When that happens, when two people are together for a long time and go through a lot together, they start to change together.”

“Isn’t that hard, though?” Tobin asks critically, like she’s seriously paying attention to what Ali is saying. “Isn’t that why a lot of people don’t make it past the honeymoon stage, so to speak?”

“Oh, definitely,” Ali says, nodding fervently. “Once people are forced to deal with the tough shit, their true compatibility comes out. And that kind of change doesn’t just happen once or twice - it happens all the time. After all, we’re all individual people, and it’s hard to coexist with others, much less one specific person on a regular basis.”

“You make it sound like so much fun,” Christen says, and she means for it to come out teasing, but it doesn’t. Instead it sounds a little bitter and sarcastic, and Tobin glances at her before taking another sip of her beer. 

“It’s rewarding,” Ali says. “It’s so rewarding when you realize that you’ve found someone who is just as dedicated to making things work. Sometimes I think that’s one of the most important parts, you know? Finding someone who is willing to put in the same amount of effort as you are. That way, some of the pressure is already off. You don’t have to worry about one person caring more than the other, or about your partner deciding they can’t do it, or it’s not worth it.”

Christen just drinks her Coke, letting the words sink in between the three of them. 

“That’s a different perspective,” Tobin says, and Christen knows she can be like this: thoughtful, considerate, and deep. It’s been a long time since she’s seen it, and it throws her a little, but more than anything, it strikes Christen as nice. It’s nice that Tobin can talk with people like this, act human and not immediately shy away. It’s not something that Christen thinks she’s ever seen before (not that they had ever spent much time with other people during their time together), and she clears her throat just as Tobin is about to say more. 

“I think that Kelley is up,” Christen says, nodding towards the stage. 

“Oh!” Ali exclaims, turning her attention in that direction. “This should be good!”

It is good - Kelley’s got charm and enthusiasm and almost the entire place is glued to her performance. It’s got Christen laughing as Kelley does some exaggerated hip swings, and it’s really just some ridiculous country song that she just barely has the range for, but no one cares about the quality of her voice. Christen taps her foot along to the beat and looks away when Kelley nearly trips during a particularly embarrassing dance move. She ends up catching Tobin’s eyes when she does and just looks away quickly, but something makes her look right back again. 

There’s something in Tobin’s gaze - something even and mature, steady and sure - that makes Christen do it. There’s something there that makes her do a bit of a double take, looking at Tobin for an extra second or two before she goes back to watching Kelley.

She’s not sure what it means, or why Tobin had been looking her way in the first place, but Christen tries not to pay it too much mind. After all, they’re not even really friends - and that’s okay. Maybe at some point they will be, but Christen isn’t trying to reach that far right now. 

For right now, Christen is content to let things just be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this took longer than usual, and i apologize! hopefully the contents of the chapter have managed to make up for it. it's looking like there might be three more chapters and then maybe an epilogue, so we're starting to reach a conclusion here. let me know what you think of where these characters are at right now!


	15. everytime

It’s hot and sunny out, and this might be the most relaxed that Christen has been in years. 

Which is very odd, she thinks, elbows resting on the edge of the pool, water coming halfway up her stomach. This whole thing could have been a recipe for chaos, but instead she’s got a second margarita in one hand and is giggling at whatever it is that Alex is saying. She’s been busy holding court for the better part of fifteen minutes, recounting some tale about her time in Japan that involves a language barrier and a missed bus. 

“I’m pretty sure she nearly made us miss practice, and I was this close to killing her,” Alex tells everyone, and the group isn’t huge or anything - she’s invited several close friends over to celebrate winning the Olympics, and despite their tentative friendship, Christen still isn’t entirely sure how she managed to be included - but she’s acting like she’s queen of the world, and everyone is indulging her appropriately. 

After all, she’s sloppily drunk and wearing a gold medal around her neck. Really, how can anyone deny her?

Christen is laughing, a little quietly and mostly to herself, when a sudden shadow is cast over her. It distracts her and she looks up and to the side for a moment, before doing a double take upon registering who is there. 

“Hi,” Tobin says, crouching down at the side of the pool. “Has she gotten to the part about the celebration after the semi-finals?”

“Is she even going chronologically?” Christer wonders aloud. She hasn’t exactly been making an effort to follow along too closely, instead just catching bits and pieces here and there. 

“If she’s past the group stage, you’ve heard all the good stuff,” Tobin says. “I’ve been forced to listen to her talk about this a million times, it’s not as gripping as she’d have you believe.”

“I heard something about Australia,” Christen offers. 

“Yeah, you’re past the good stuff,” Tobin says. “You want to stick around for the rest, or will you come help me figure out how to turn on the jets in the hot tub?”

“Why me?” Christen asks, almost like a reflex, but she’s already turning around, trying to figure out where to put her drink so she can haul herself up and out of the water. Tobin takes the glass from her, standing up and stepping back to give her room.

“Because you’re the only other person here who would pass a field sobriety test,” Tobin explains. “And because when I asked Kelley to help me, she mentioned that your parents have one.”

“They do,” Christen confirms as she finds her footing, and there’s a very sudden and awful sense of deja vu, of being here in this very spot on the far side of the pool with Tobin next to her. It’s momentarily overwhelming, and Christen takes a prolonged second to shake off some water and gather herself before reaching for her drink in Tobin’s right hand. There’s another glass in Tobin’s other hand, bright and orange and courtesy of the cocktail bar Alex has set up along the back of her house, and Christen quirks an eyebrow at it as they begin circling the perimeter of the pool.

“What is that?” Christen asks. “Something that isn’t beer, or a tequila shot?”

“Some sunrise something,” Tobin says, glancing down at her drink with a distrustful expression. “Allie swore I would love it, but it’s not really my thing. Thanks for helping me, by the way.”

“Oh,” Christen says, and she has to remind herself that this isn’t eight months ago, and that there aren’t any expectations here. There’s no way for Tobin to hurt her anymore, and she looks straight ahead as they walk, feeling slightly bolstered by that knowledge. “Yeah, of course. I mean, I was kind of dying to hear what exactly Alex got up to every night of the tournament, but - ”

Christen just shrugs and it makes Tobin laugh, short and unassuming but still genuine. 

“You can go back, if you like,” Tobin says generously. “I don’t need to use the hot tub, I can stick it out in the cold water like everyone else.”

“I mean, it is nearly triple digits out here,” Christen says, screwing up her face as they come to the electric panel on the side of the house. “I’m not really understanding the appeal of getting in heated water right now, but to each their own, I guess.”

“So you won’t be joining me, then?” Tobin asks, and it feels teasing, in a way that makes Christen take a long sip of her margarita while she contemplates the switches in front of her.

“Maybe,” Christen says vaguely, leaning in closer while Tobin hovers a decent distance away. “Are you sure that this is how you turn it on? Did you ask Alex or anything?”

“I was going to,” Tobin says, and Christen glances over to see a slightly guilty look on her face. “But she’s having such a good time, and I really didn’t want to have to listen to her tell me all about the Olympics again.”

Christen doesn’t want to read into it too much, but she thinks of where Tobin’s life was four years ago, a few weeks after the previous Olympics, and she doesn’t need to press any further. She doesn’t need to dig in and chance opening up any old wounds, especially not if Tobin really has been trying to heal them. 

“Did you look near the hot tub?” Christen asks. “Did you see a dial or anything?”

Tobin doesn’t answer immediately, and for a second Christen thinks that she fucked up - that maybe she said the wrong thing, or didn’t say enough. She’s never been sure of how to tread properly with Tobin, and perhaps she’s gone and overestimated how comfortable they’re allowed to be with each other. However, Tobin’s still got the same guilty expression on, and this time there’s a small and sheepish smile toying at her mouth. 

“Well,” Tobin starts, unable to resist breaking out into a full on grin, “I just kind of assumed - ”

Christen can’t help the incredulous way in which she looks at her. 

“You didn’t even look?” she asks in disbelief. “You walked me all the way over here, barefoot, across the hot patio - ”

“I’m sorry!” Tobin says, now laughing. 

“ - and didn’t even think to double check your work?” Christen asks, and now she’s grinning too. “I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“I thought I did too!” Tobin says, and the words could be defensive, but instead she’s still laughing and motioning over to the hot tub. “Okay, come on, let’s go check it out.”

“I can’t believe this,” Christen says, shaking her head and feeling relief that Tobin doesn’t seem to be taking any of this too seriously. 

“Look, I never claimed to be an expert,” Tobin says, and Christen bends down where she can easily spot the mechanism to turn the hot tub on. “See? I knew you could do this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Christen says, and she’s rolling her eyes but it’s good natured and she feels like Tobin knows that. “Alright, it might take a little while to heat up, but you shouldn’t need to do anything else.”

“Are you not gonna stay with me?” Tobin asks, looking up from where she’s lifting a leg to step over the ledge and into the water. Christen hesitates, only because she hadn’t been sure of what Tobin wanted, aside from the single passing comment she’d made. It’s almost instinct to overthink it, to go over it in her head and dissect until she’s decided on the safest reaction, the safest course of action, but Christen is quick to remember that she’s done tiptoeing around Tobin. 

She’s quick to remember that she doesn’t have to anymore, that they’ve been crossing each others paths for a couple of months now - the Fourth of July, Kelley’s birthday, that one time Christen had been out to eat with her sisters and spotted Tobin on the sidewalk outside the restaurant - and she’s managed perfectly fine without watching herself too closely. 

“Well, my drink is getting pretty low,” Christen says, shaking the melting ice cubes in her drink for emphasis. “But it’s pretty hot out, so maybe I should pace myself.”

“Yes, please,” Tobin says, and it’s earnest as she fully slips into the hot tub, angled to face Christen still. “Come on, don’t leave me alone. And definitely don’t let me be the only sober person here.”

Christen almost wants to point out that she’s not exactly stone cold sober, but she’s got her wits about her enough to carefully follow Tobin in, but only after she’s drained her margarita and set it down on the ground. 

“It’s hot,” Christen says, nearly recoiling as she gets her feet in. “Wow, that heated up fast. How did you just get in like that?”

“I think I got in before it was all the way on,” Tobin says. “It feels good though, you’ve just got to jump in.”

“I’m not jumping into a hot tub,” Christen says, and her ankles and calves feel like they’re on fire, but she forces herself not to back out. “That sounds like a recipe for injury.”

“Okay, fair,” Tobin agrees. “Is it still bad?”

“I think it’s getting better,” Christen says, and she can feel Tobin watching her as she steps down again, water rising up near her knees. 

“Yeah!” Tobin says encouragingly. “Like I promise, it feels good once you’re actually in.”

It feels almost silly, the two of them making such a big deal out of something this small and simple, but Tobin eggs her on until Christen is fully seated in the hot tub. They’re not too close to each other and Christen spends a minute making sure that her hair is tied up and not in danger of falling in the water, but when it all settles, she takes stock of where they are and what they’re doing. They’re not alone, not really, not when everyone else there is loud and rambunctious as they start up what looks like a volleyball game even though there isn’t a net in the pool. But for some reason, it feels like they’re alone for the first time in a long time, and that’s not even the part that really gets Christen. 

Because they were alone together in the last year - like well and truly alone. They were alone in December, when they’d been hanging out and Christen had been stupid enough to think that it was heading somewhere. It hadn’t just been once, or twice, but a small handful of times that they’d been alone together, but the entire time Christen had felt like she needed to act a certain way in order to draw certain things out of Tobin and avoid other things. Now, though, she’s feeling like she can just relax for once, and she eases into it more naturally than she would have been able to previously. 

It’s almost like there aren’t any expectations, Christen thinks as she rests her elbows back on the edge of the hot tub, imitating the position she’d been in when Tobin had first approached her in the pool. There aren’t any pretenses here, nothing hidden between them, not when they had finally said everything they needed to a long time ago, and have had since processed it and moved on. It feels almost like they’re on neutral, even ground for once in their twisted history together, and Christen relishes in it as she sits in silence, just enjoying the jets and the small beads of sweat starting to drip down the back of her neck.

When Tobin is the first to break the silence between them, it just reinforces how much everything has grown and changed between them. 

“Are you having a good time?” she asks, and Christen smiles lazily at her as she considers her answer. 

“Yeah,” Christen says slowly, tilting her head back to keep her sunglasses from sliding down the bridge of her nose. “I mean, I love being out in the sun like this. And as much as I don’t mind Sonnett, it’s nice to spend time with Kelley when they’re not permanently glued to each other in one way or another.”

“Oh, I know,” Tobin agrees readily. “Kelley keeps bringing her to work, swearing that she won’t be a distraction. Of course, guess what happens?”

“Wait, which work?” Christen asks. “At the gym, or with the team?”

“Well, it’s soccer season again,” Tobin explains, “so both.”

Christen laughs, focusing her vision so she can see Tobin’s toothpaste commercial smile, nearly blinding in the light. 

“I’m not even surprised,” Christen says. “I have to ask her specifically, every time I see her, if I should expect to be a third wheel again.”

“At this point you should just assume that it’s a ‘yes,’” Tobin says. “I don’t mind having Sonny around at practice - I mean, she played with most of the girls, she knows what we’re doing - but it would be nice to feel like I’m not leading the drills all by myself.”

“Surely the honeymoon stage will wear off soon, right?” 

“You would think,” Tobin says with a dark chuckle. “We’ll see, though. Really though, they haven’t been together for very long. At least, not officially.”

“Yeah, but they’ve been mooning over each other at least since I first met Sonnett almost a year ago,” Christen points out. “Doesn’t that count?”

“I think it’s different,” Tobin says, shrugging. “I don’t know, there’s probably something different about it being real and cemented that changes the dynamic of a relationship.”

Christen bites her lip, dipping her chin to look down at herself so Tobin doesn’t see her face. It’s not like Christen can see her own expression, but she can feel something there that might give her away, and that’s not what she wants. Because maybe Tobin hasn’t said anything, not explicitly, and Christen knows that they’ve both casually dated other people, but sometimes it feels like there could still be something. 

Maybe it’s in how she catches Tobin staring at her sometimes. Well, Christen stops herself, as she adjusts her bikini top where it’s cutting into her side - well, it’s not staring as much as it is just looking. It doesn’t have to mean anything, not really, and it’s only happened half a dozen times. She’s just overthinking things, and even though she does it less than she used to, it still happens sometimes. Christen resolves to put it from her mind, to push on through every slightly awkward moment, every stilted instance where she thinks that maybe something that Tobin does might mean more than it does in reality, and finishes fixing her top and looks up at Tobin where she’s sitting across from her. 

Except Tobin’s gaze is about a solid foot lower than Christen’s eyes, and there’s not really much there to look at, but Tobin looks different, and Christen wonders if maybe she’s written this all off too easily in a desperate attempt to keep going as she has been for the last six months or so. She’s been doing well,  _ really  _ well _ ,  _ and doesn’t want to take any number of steps back, but there’s no denying the unblinking way in which Tobin is taking her in. So she does something that she would have been too timid to ever do before, and clears her throat pointedly. 

“My face is up here, you know,” she says, and it’s mostly a joke and she prays it comes off that way. It must, because Tobin’s eyes shoot up to meet hers, and she seems sheepish but not upset or stony. 

“Sorry,” Tobin says, but her smile is lopsided and somehow endearing and Christen gets the strange impression that she’s not sorry at all. 

“Anyway,” Christen says, and it’s far too easy to keep smiling back at each other like this, where they’re both deliriously content in Alex’s hot tub. “Tell me more about the team. I want to know how it’s been going, since Kelley can’t be bothered to anymore.”

“Wow, you wanting to hear about soccer,” Tobin says, and it’s teasing and Christen giggles. “Okay, give me a second to mentally mark this date down.”

“Stop!” Christen protests. “Fine, forget I even asked.”

“No, no,” Tobin says, and her eyes are bright as she squints against the sun. “I’m taking full advantage of this. So first of all, you won’t believe the roster we’ve got this year - ”

*

The route to Kelley’s is seared into Christen’s brain at this point, and she drives through weekend traffic like it’s muscle memory. She hums along with the playlist Kelley put on, too settled after such a nice day to bother changing it even if it’s nothing that she knows very well, and even if Kelley just so happens to be dozing in the passenger seat. It’s not until a particularly enormous pothole that Kelley’s soft snuffling stops, and she sits up a little straighter and yawns without bothering to cover her mouth. 

“You catching up on your beauty sleep?” Christen asks, glancing over at her. 

“Shut up,” Kelley mumbles, scratching at her upper arm. “I think the chlorine is giving me a rash.”

“It’s hard to tell when you keep itching it,” Christen says, and Kelley just flips her a middle finger in response before changing the song. They drive quietly for a few minutes before Kelley speaks again.

“So,” she says, drawing the word out needlessly. “You have a good time?”

“Yeah,” Christen says, switching lanes carefully. “Alex always throws a good party, no surprise. And the sunset was really beautiful.”

“It was,” Kelley says, and Christen doesn’t even notice how agreeable it is of her until it’s too late. “So - I saw you with Tobin.”

“Oh, yeah,” Christen says. “You mean when you cannonballed into the pool near us and splashed me with all that water?”

“Yeah,” Kelley says, and she doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“My hair is fine, by the way,” Christen tells her. 

Kelley draws a leg up onto the edge of the seat, chin resting on her knee as they both look out the windshield.

“You two looked like you were having a good time together.”

It’s both careful and accusatory, and it makes Christen wince and run through her mind for any combination of words with which she can respond appropriately. 

“I guess,” she says, hoping that she’s successfully playing it off. Because really, in the grand scheme of things, nothing had happened. Especially nothing that Kelley needs to concern herself with. “I mean, we’ve run into each other enough by now that we’ve learned how to be civil together.”

“She kept laughing,” Kelley says, and it’s unexpectedly sharp. 

“Maybe I’m just a funny person,” Christen suggests, but Kelley doesn’t buy it and shakes her head, hands clasped tightly around her shin. 

“That wasn’t funny laughing,” Kelley says, and it’s critical and it burns Christen, making her shift uncomfortably and second-guess how the entire day had gone. “She’s trying to get on your good side again, I can tell.”

“How can you tell?” Christen asks, and really she hadn’t thought too much of it while it was happening, but she’d be lying if she said that she doesn’t trust Kelley’s judgment. 

“Because I know Tobin,” Kelley says. “I can tell, just take it from me. She doesn’t act like that with people she’s just being civil with.”

“Are we not allowed to be friends?” Christen asks, and she knows she’s too defensive, and it’s setting off all of Kelley’s alarm bells (and her own, if she’s being honest with herself), but she can’t help it. She’d only meant to have a nice day, and it had happened to include Tobin, and she had been focused on finding a way to put a positive spin on that. So to have Kelley frame it so negatively is upsetting, not least of all because it feels like she’s completely undermining every effort that Christen has put forth all year.

“You two don’t do ‘friends,’” Kelley says, and it’s too harsh.

Christen swallows hard. 

“I’m not who I was at the beginning of the year,” she says, giving it right back to Kelley just as harshly. “And I don’t appreciate you acting like I can’t make these kind of decisions for myself.”

Kelley looks a little stunned at the force with which Christen speaks to her, and it spurs her on. 

“I’ve put a lot of effort into not letting anyone impact me as much as I let her,” Christen says. “I know you haven’t paid a lot of attention to that, but it doesn’t mean that it hasn’t happened. I know what I can handle, and regardless of how she feels - which we have no idea of, by the way, unless you’ve been talking to her about this, in which case I would be really hurt - I know how I feel, and that’s what matters the most.”

“Alright,” Kelley says, and it’s reluctant and clear that she doesn’t want to let this go, but Christen isn’t letting her take this any further. “I just want you to be careful.”

“And I will be,” Christen says with more patience. “But I can take care of myself without your input. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kelley says, and there’s still a hint of skepticism there. “But if there was anything there - ”

“There isn’t,” Christen says determinedly. 

“But if there was,” Kelley persists. “What would you do?”

Christen thinks about it. She thinks about Tobin, and how much lighter she seems, and how well they’ve gotten along recently.

She thinks about how Tobin has been more open with her over the course of the year, about how she feels like she finally understands what happened between them, even if she doesn’t agree with how either of them handled it all at the time. 

She thinks about how it feels like they keep getting pulled together, whether it be showing up at the same place or gravitating towards each other at parties. It’s magnetic in a way that Christen knows isn’t common, in a way that she isn’t sure she’ll ever find again. 

And she knows that that’s not the solid foundation of every successful relationship, and it only has to mean something if she lets it. 

She knows that Tobin is just one person, and she is only one person, and they can both find other people in the world to make them happy. 

More than anything, Christen knows that she doesn’t need anyone else to make her happy. She’s capable of making herself happy, she’s proven that this year, and she’s proud of all of that. 

Christen thinks about Tobin, and how far it seems like she’s come, and thinks that maybe she’s proud of her too. 

There isn’t an answer for Kelley, because suddenly, Christen doesn’t know what she would do.

*

It’s not often that Christen feels secure enough to slip away from the ICU for any reason other than transporting a patient, but she winds up lucky one day in the middle of September. One of her patients gets sent to dialysis for four hours while the other gets downgraded to a telemetry unit, and by the time lunch rolls around, Lauren is practically begging her to take a break. 

“I promise, if anything happens to your guy in dialysis, I’ll page you,” Lauren says. “Take advantage of this - slow shifts don’t come around very often.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Amy says strictly as she rounds the corner with an armful of IV meds, pushing a vitals machine. “I don’t need this day getting out of control.”

So Christen takes a moment to call Heather’s work number, convinces her to take her lunch with her, and winds up in the cafeteria with her and Ali. 

“It feels so good to get off the floor for five seconds,” Ali gushes, sitting down with a tray full of chicken fingers and waffle fries that Heather raises an eyebrow at it. 

“What happened to the wedding diet?” Heather asks. 

“You know what a shitty shift I’m having,” Ali shoots at her, ripping open a ketchup packet before pushing her hand in front of Christen’s face. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

“It’s beautiful,” Christen tells her, taking Ali’s hand to study the gigantic rock - for the millionth time. “It was just as beautiful at your engagement party.”

Ali huffs a bit while Heather and Christen exchange amused glances. 

“When you get engaged, you’ll know,” Ali says. 

“That’s a long way off,” Christen says, leaning back in her chair and popping open her Tupperware full of leftovers. “And besides, you hardly need to go on a diet, you look fine.”

“It’s preemptive,” Ali explains. “For all the wedding cake I plan on eating.”

Christen laughs as Heather leans over to sniff at her food. 

“That looks good,” she says, and Christen gently elbows her away as she digs into her grain salad with a fork. “Did you make it?”

“It was Kelley’s turn to pick a dinner spot,” Christen says. “I’ll have her send you the name of the place if you want to check it out.”

“Okay, something keeps buzzing,” Ali says loudly, peering around the table. “Whose pager is it?”

“Not mine,” Christen says, feeling for hers on her waistband to confirm that it’s been silent since she left her unit. 

“It’s not me,” Heather says, looking at hers. “Are you sure it’s not yours?”

“Oh,” Ali says, for a second, but then shakes her head after confirming that it’s not hers. “I could have sworn that I heard something vibrating. Am I imagining things?”

“Probably,” Heather tells her. 

“Wait,” Christen says, flipping over her phone where she’s had it face down on the tabletop since she sat down. “Sorry, I think it’s been my phone.”

“Who needs to talk to you that badly?” Ali asks nosily, leaning over to try and get a look at the screen, but Christen quickly flips it back over after seeing the messages there. 

“Nobody,” she says, shoving a forkful of food in her mouth as she feels her face grow warm.

“Who is it? You’d say if it was Kelley,” Heather asks interestedly, and before Christen can stop her, Heather has the device in her hands and is swiping up. “Do you seriously not have a lock on your phone?”

“It’s the new one,” Christen says uselessly. “I just haven’t set it up yet! Now give it back.”

She tries to channel her inner Amy, putting on a strict mom voice, but it’s useless as Heather goes quiet and reads Christen’s messages. This isn’t a weird dynamic for them, Christen has her reply to Kelley’s texts for her all the time, but this is different, as evidenced by the way Heather slides the phone back to her with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“Who is it?” Ali asks, looking back and forth between them. “Nothing ever gets Heather to shut up - is it the girl from the NICU that I tried to fix you up with the other week? Did you ever call her?”

“No,” Christen says. 

“Are you two sexting?” Ali guesses. “Is that why Heather looks like that?”

“What do I look like?” Heather asks daringly, and Ali opens her mouth to respond before snapping her jaw shut. 

“You look beautiful,” Ali tells her after a pause. “Beautiful, as always.”

Christen goes quiet, chewing food that suddenly tastes like cardboard, and wondering if this is just the confirmation she didn’t want, if this is confirmation that what she’s doing is wrong. 

“Hey,” Heather says after a minute, knocking her arm against Christen’s. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy or anything.”

Christen coughs and waits until her throat feels clear to say something. 

“No, it’s okay,” she assures Heather. “I just was kind of worried that you’d have the same reaction Kelley did.”

“What reaction did Kelley have?”

“She got really mean,” Christen says, thinking of Kelley’s perpetually critical glare. “She thinks it’s a bad idea for us to be on speaking terms at all.”

“Well,” Heather says carefully, in a way that reminds Christen of before they were friends, back when they were just coworkers. “She’s not wrong for thinking that.”

“I’m missing something,” Ali says, and Christen looks over to see her forehead scrunched up in confusion. 

“This girl broke my heart,” Christen says, and it doesn’t even hurt to say it anymore. It’s more of a fact than anything now. “And I guess I broke hers too? Except now it feels like we might be friends again.”

“Oh,” Ali says, suddenly looking thoughtful. She passes Christen a fry, which she takes but doesn’t move to eat. “Are you like, looking for advice or anything?”

Christen hesitates, looking down at the waffle fry pinched between two of her fingers. 

“I don’t know,” she says. “Things feel different with her now.”

Ali just nods, while Heather stays uncommonly silent as she opts for eating her reheated spaghetti. 

“I’m not who I was when I was with her,” Christen says. “I’m more secure in myself. I can stand up for myself now.”

“That’s important,” Ali says encouragingly. “That’s really awesome, Christen.”

“Thanks,” Christen says, and it’s like she wants to smile but she can’t. “And she seems different too. Like she’s learned how to work through all her stuff. Or at least, like she’s in the process of working through it all.”

“That’s also important,” Ali says. 

Christen nibbles at the waffle fry a little, staring ahead out into the cafeteria but not really saying anything. 

“It’s probably not good that I feel like I’m ashamed of talking to her,” Christen says finally, appreciating the space that she’s being given to talk about this, the way that she’s being allowed to lead the conversation. As much as she loves Kelley, as close as they are, Kelley isn’t exactly good at this part of friendship, always a little too set in her opinions on what’s right and what’s wrong for others. 

“It’s understandable, if you have bad history together,” Ali says. 

“Yeah, but shouldn’t I be proud of her?” Christen asks, looking at Ali, whose big brown eyes are soft and sympathetic. “If this was a good thing, if it was really right, then I shouldn’t feel like I have to hide it. Right?”

“Christen,” Heather speaks up, again in that careful way of hers, the one where it’s clear that she knows what she wants out of this, but isn’t going to be aggressive about it. “You’re not talking about friendship.”

Christen takes her time eating the rest of the waffle fry, and then Ali passes her another, and she eats that one much more quickly before speaking again. 

“No,” she says. “I guess I’m not.”

There’s a part of her that feels foolish, especially as she reaches for her phone to read the texts that Tobin had sent. 

_ So I brought protein powder into the office and I swear someone has found it and started sneaking some because it looks emptier every time I open the container! _

_ How can I figure out who’s stealing my protein powder? Like this is not okay.  _

_ You’re at work, aren’t you? Sorry, I slept in and forgot! Just text me whenever.  _

_ Okay, I know I said text me whenever, but I’m almost positive someone is clearing me out of protein powder and I feel like you’re the only one smart enough to help me come up with a plan to catch the killer.  _

_ The culprit, I mean. Although they’ll be punished as if they killed someone.  _

_ It’s a special cookies and cream flavor! This is serious business! _

It had started after Alex’s party - at first it was just laughing about hot tubs, hoping the other had a good time, small stuff like that. Then they’d encountered each other because of Kelley and the team a few times, and they were never really alone, but it was enough to get Christen thinking that maybe this was okay, and that maybe Tobin really had changed as much as she had. It was enough to get her thinking, and no matter how much she told herself that it didn’t mean anything beyond friendship, there was a small voice in the back of her head telling her that this wasn’t just friendship. 

At least, this isn’t friendship with Tobin. And Christen knows that for a fact, because she’s been on the other end of it before. 

She knows that several texts in a row from her means more, and that Tobin doesn’t text just anyone in the hours after she wakes up. She knows how much Tobin loves cookies and cream, and that Tobin considers the mundane details of her day just that: mundane. She knows that Tobin doesn’t really waste her time sharing that kind of information with just anyone, and especially not people that she’s just friends with. 

“You’re smiling,” Ali says, and Christen looks up from her phone quickly, locking it and setting it down. 

“I’m not,” Christen denies. 

“You are,” Heather says, and her smile is smaller than Ali’s but it’s still there. “You’re really not talking about friendship anymore, are you?”

Christen reaches out to take another one of Ali’s fries as she thinks about it, and then her phone flashes with another message. This time she can read it easily, flashing on her lock screen, and she grins wider as she wipes her slightly greasy fingers on a napkin and goes to formulate a reply. 

_ Okay I’m probably annoying the crap out of you if you’re even getting these messages, so I’ll let up. Don’t want you thinking I’m a crazy person.  _

_ I’ve just been busy! Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re crazy, but we definitely need to investigate this whole protein powder situation. Have we ruled Kelley out yet? _

“No,” Christen says after the message sends, and her voice is stronger than she expects it to be. “I guess I’m not.”

“This is so cute,” Ali coos. 

“You literally just found out about it, and don’t even have the whole story,” Heather points out, but Ali just shrugs. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t think it’s cute,” Ali says. “I mean, Christen, you seem so happy!”

“I’m not,” Christen denies. “I mean, I am happy, but I’ve been happy. It’s not as though me being happy is dependent upon my interactions with her.”

“Of course not,” Heather says. “And it shouldn’t me.”

“So I don’t know,” Christen says, reaching for her water bottle. “Maybe what I’m talking about isn’t friendship, but I don’t know that it’s anything more than that either.”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it,” Ali suggests. “That’s the mature thing to do, anyway.”

“I don’t think that would go over very well with her,” Christen says. “I mean, she’s better, but I don’t think any miracles have happened there.”

“Maybe you should take it easy,” Heather says, and she reaches out to rest a hand on Christen’s forearm. “You don’t have to do anything about this right now. If it’s meant to me, you’ll figure it out. The both of you.”

Christen contemplates it, fingers clenched around the glass of her reusable water bottle, and bites her bottom lip, no closer to any kind of answer than she had before. Or at least, she doesn’t think that she is, until her phone buzzes again. 

_ Kelley was my first guess but she swears on Stanford that it wasn’t her.  _

_ Do you think she’s lying? I wouldn’t put it past her.  _

It’s in the way that her heart beats fast and the corners of her mouth curve up into a smile, and that’s how Christen knows that even if she doesn’t want to know, she does. 

She knows what she wants - she just doesn’t know if it’s worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this took forever, and i apologize for that! hopefully the contents of this chapter can make up for it. we're in the home stretch now, as you might be able to tell from how this ends. let me know what you think of where christen's head is at now!

**Author's Note:**

> i'm much more likely to respond to questions on tumblr: softanticipation.tumblr.com


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